Bloodmarrow
by Smenzer
Summary: Set during Ep 4, Luke is attacked by an animal and ends up needing a bone marrow transplant due to a rare disease. Vader is the donor. ObiWan also has caught the disease! Can Vader save both of them?A response to the 'ER Challenge' on the Luke Vader Write
1. Chapter 1

Title: Bloodmarrow

Author: Smenzer

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: None

Genre: Horror/drama

Warning: Some violence

Teaser: Set during Episode 4, Luke gets attacked by a strange beast and ends up in a Star Destroyer medical bay. Can Vader save him?

Disclaimer: The characters are not mine. They belong to George Lucas and Lucasfilm. This is just for fun.

Author's Note: This is a reply to the 'ER Challenge' on the Luke/Vader Writer's Group. Also please note that in this story, Darth Vader already has _Executor_. It was built and finished sooner. Otherwise things are about the same (droids stole DS plans, Owen bought them, etc).

The Star Destroyer _Executor_ hung in space; it's huge length and girth blocking thousands of stars. Lord Darth Vader stood on the bridge and stared out the windows at the sight before him. The reddish-gold sliver of a harsh world was visible before him, the large curve of the planet filling the upper reaches of the windows. The brilliant color was startling when compared to the inky blackness of space, but its stark beauty didn't fool the Sith Lord. Tatooine was a harsh desert world populated by even more harsh people. Years ago, when his mother had been brutally murdered by the Sandpeople, he had vowed never to come back here. Too many bad memories lurked within his brain, memories that threatened to reawaken the deep pain that had stabbed at him for so long. That pain had slept for years now, his feelings deadened somewhat by the all-consuming powers of the Dark Side. Yet the simple act of staring out at that burnt orange globe threatened to reawaken it all.

The Rebellion had led him here. He had been chasing after them for years it seemed and now he had the traitor Princess Leia in his grasp, securely locked within a cell in the ship's brig. And soon, very soon, his crew would find the stolen plans that the traitorous woman had given to droids. The only other thing he had been chasing after longer had been his son…

His son. Vader didn't even know if the boy really existed. Palpatine had told him that Padme had died and he knew that to be true, as his Force vision had shown him the future. But what of the child, had it survived the birthing process or had it died with its mother? He felt torn in half by this issue, as if he couldn't make up his mind. Late at night when the ship had grown silent and he lay in his bunk unable to sleep, he thought himself a fool. The darkness of night made it clear he was chasing an impossible dream and the baby was long dead; nothing but a tiny skeleton buried in the dirt. But at other moments he felt sure the child had survived and that Obi-Wan had spirited him off to some secret location, for his former Master had been in the dream as well. The Jedi would never harm an innocent and would have kept him safe. But where, that was the all important, consuming question and the one he had no answer to. Vader's mechanical breathing was loud in the still and quiet of the bridge as he once again pondered the unknown fate of his only offspring. Although he had not actively searched for the child, he had taken advantage of his duties to the Empire to scan each world he had visited with the Force. He had concluded if the child were out there, he would sense it through the Force. Then and only then would he take the search to the next level, physically searching for him.

Gazing out at the stars and the crescent of burnt orange, Vader ran the numbers through his head. If the child were still out there, he or she would be fully grown by now. Perhaps the search was futile, a pipe dream. Still, searching with the Force at each planet had become a tradition of sorts and although he hated Tatooine with all the fury of the Dark Side, it wouldn't do to not search it. Closing his eyes to block the hated world from his sight, he reached outward with the Force while expecting another dead end.

Vader's eyes snapped open when he recognized a familiar presence somewhere below.

"Obi-Wan." Turning on his heel, Vader strode out of the bridge, his black cape flowing behind him.

Meanwhile, down on Tatooine, Obi-Wan Kenobi and Luke Skywalker stood at the edge of a tall cliff that overlooked Mos Eisley. The desert spaceport city spread out before them. It was circular in shape, with the most vital parts secure in the center. The houses were the familiar rounded domes that Luke was used to, although some taller structures did exist. Luke had never been this far from his Uncle's moisture farm and he stared in awe at the sight before him. To a boy used to thinking that Anchorhead was big, this place was huge. "It's … it's so _big_!"

"And dangerous." Obi-Wan warned as he raised a hand to indicate his point. "We must be cautious. Don't forget the stormtroopers are searching for us. The last thing we want is to be caught by the Empire."

Luke nodded automatically, not really hearing the older Jedi's words. A part of him still couldn't believe he was really here or that the home he had lived in his entire life was gone, destroyed. It was too sudden, too bizarre. And now they were going to find a ship to leave Tatooine, actually _leave_! And he was going to become a Jedi because his father had been a Jedi. It was like something out of a fairy tale; as if a magical fairy godmother had come and granted his wish to leave the planet. He fingered the ancient silver weapon that hung from his belt; a gift from his long dead father. He wanted to ask Ben more about the man who had been his father but felt it wasn't the best time. No, they were being hunted and the last thing he wanted was to end up dead like his poor relatives. Although Owen had always been strict and gruff with him, Luke knew he hadn't deserved such an awful fate. No one did. And his Aunt certainly didn't. Beru had always treated him kindly, as if he were the son she could never have.

Climbing back into his old T-16 skyhopper, Obi-Wan joining him, he followed a trail down towards the distant city. Although the rational part of his mind knew he should be scared, he wasn't. It was like some grand adventure, the kind he had only read about in books. The little craft flew quickly and Luke steered it expertly. Soon the city of Mos Eisley rose up before them, the domed buildings the same color as the sand. The brilliant white of stormtrooper armor became visible up ahead and Luke's heart gave a little jerk. The soldiers were standing on the road into the city, big rifles cradled in their arms. His eyes widening in alarm, he chanced a quick glance at the Jedi. "What are we going to do? They have a blockade!"

"Relax." Obi-Wan calmly replied. "Let me handle it."

Trying not to bite his lip, Luke brought the skyhopper up even with the stormtroopers and paused, the motor still running. "Is there a problem?"

One of the stormtroopers leaned in closer to the vehicle and spoke. "There is a dangerous animal loose in town. No one can enter or leave until it has been caught and killed. Turn around and go back."

Luke gawked open-mouthed as the stormtrooper made a circling motion with his hand and then pointed the way they had come. "An animal? Why, that's just crazy! Surely it can get in or out anywhere it wants!"

A second stormtrooper stepped forward. "We're also looking for droids. How long did you have these?"

"About five seasons." Obi-Wan replied as he relaxed within the old skyhopper. Looking at the stormtrooper who had asked about the droids, he waved a hand. "These are not the droids you're looking for. We can go into town."

Like a parrot, the stormtrooper repeated his words. "You can go into town. Go on…"

Luke moved the skyhopper forward and passed through the blockade. Once they were safely within the outer part of Mos Eisley, he breathed a sigh of relief. "How did you do that? I thought we'd be caught for sure!"

"The Force can be a powerful ally." Obi-Wan stated as he scanned the streets. Dewbacks carrying stormtroopers on their backs slowly waddled past, big guns resting on their hips. Except for a few extra troopers out and about, the town looked normal enough. Various aliens went about their business and places were open, bright neon lights beckoning for passerby's to stop in. "Many people are weak-minded and you can control them with the Force. With time and training, you'll learn to do it as well."

"Really? Wow! I had no idea you could do stuff like that." Luke glanced around, trying to see everything at once. There were so many exotic aliens around and he very much wanted to see al of them. Then a slight frown creased his young face as he remembered what the first stormtrooper had warned of. "But should we really be here? What about that dangerous animal?"

"Don't worry about it, Luke. I once fell into a nest of Gundarks and survived, completely intact. I doubt if it's anything as dangerous as that…" Obi-Wan shrugged, unconcerned. He was a Jedi, after all and had fought all types of creatures. He spotted the Mos Eisley Cantina and smiled. "Park over there, in that empty space. "We'll go into the Cantina and see if we can find a pilot."

Luke steered the skyhopper into the empty space across the street from the Cantina as directed. Climbing out, he was crossing the street when suddenly the ground began to shake wildly beneath his boots. His blue eyes growing wide in fright, he stumbled backward and then forward, his arms waving wildly. "What is it?"

Obi-Wan was having similar problems keeping his balance as the ground trembled. Tiny stones and pebbles on the road shook and bounced wildly. Then a huge cloud of sand and dust appeared from up ahead, the ground trembling even harder. A horrible trumpeting cry broke the air, the sound vibrating the Jedi's bones in a painful manner, like someone running fingernails down a chalkboard. "MOVE! A ronto is stampeding!"

"What?" Luke cried, unable to hear the older man's words over the racket. The ground seemed to leap downward underneath him and he fell to his seat in the dirt, coughing. The dust cloud closed over him and Luke desperately scrambled to his hands and knees. Lifting his head, he looked just in time to see a dark silhouette appearing out of the cloud of sand. It possessed a towering neck upon a huge, thick body. Something was waving, dangling from a strap under its neck and screaming in an alien tongue. The picture crystallized in the boy's mind and suddenly Luke knew he was in extreme danger. One of the large saurians that were used as beasts of burden on Tatooine had gotten out of control. Rontos were easily startled and if not properly handled, could be very dangerous to their size. A blow from one of the animal's massive feet could crush a skyhopper easily. Luke did _not_ want to think what it could do to a person stuck in its path and yet that's exactly where he was. Then he felt someone grab his arm.

"Come on, Luke!" Obi-Wan cried as he hauled the young man to his feet and made a mad dash for the safety of the Cantina.

Luke stumbled and coughed, the ground shaking worst then ever. The bellow of the ronto split the air again and then Luke felt something strike him from behind and he was flying through the air. Time seemed to stop and he was sure he'll die any moment, stepped and crushed. Then he slammed down into the sand right in front of the Cantina doorway. Sharp pain shot through the front of his face and he moaned weakly. He was _dying_!

A few moments later he heard Obi-Wan bend over him and flip him over. "Get up, Luke. We still need to find that pilot."

"I'm dying…" Luke moaned, his eyes still closed. Now that he was lying on his back, he could feel the wet blood dripping down his face and across his lips.

"Luke, it's just a bloody nose." The Jedi stated. "It doesn't even look broken. The ronto just brushed us lightly. We're extremely lucky…"

Opening his eyes, Luke sat up and gingerly touched his nose. Pulling his hand away, he was startled to see how red the blood looked. The dust was starting to settle to the ground and the creature's loud bellows had shrunk to a very distant sound. And best of all, the ground was behaving as it should again. Accepting Obi-Wan's hand, Luke slowly climbed to his feet and tested both legs. Thankful that nothing appeared broken, he gazed at his older companion. "Boy, I thought we were both dead! I hope the stormtroopers catch that thing!"

"I'm sure they will, Luke." The Jedi smiled.

"Are you all right?" Luke asked in concern as his eyes shifted from Obi-Wan's head to his dust-covered boots. The old man's dark brown robes were sand-colored now from a thick layer of dust. He looked all right but Luke couldn't be sure with all that sand covering him.

"Yes, I just scraped my palms a bit when I fell." Obi-Wan showed the younger man his scraped palms, the red showing easily through the dust. "It's nothing. I suffered far worst, believe me."

Obi-Wan slapped at his robe and shook most of the dust off, and then he led the other into the bar. "Be careful and try to stay out of trouble."

"I will." Luke promised. He watched Obi-Wan go off in one direction as the Jedi spoke to several weird-looking aliens, including a tall one covered in thick, brown fur. His body still shaking from the too-close encounter with the ronto, Luke claimed a seat at the bar and ordered a drink. He hoped the liquid would calm his nerves and rapidly beating heart. He had wanted adventure, but almost being trampled to death by an out-of-control ronto was too much! Sipping the cool liquid within his glass, he allowed the sights and sounds of the Cantina to soothe his nerves. A band was playing a nice melody in one of the bar's corners and soon Luke felt his toes tapping to the beat as he finally started to unwind. A monitor hung high in a corner up above the bar and Luke idly watched it for several minutes, not really caring that he couldn't hear the voice over the loud music from the band. It was just some human man talking anyway, his mouth moving. The band's song ended and suddenly the voice came through crystal clear.

"…And in the last few days several people have been killed in Mos Eisley, their bodies ripped and torn apart by some unknown creature. If you're in the vicinity, the Empire recommends extreme caution…"

"Let's get out of here!" The man sitting next to Luke exclaimed to his two companions, one of them a many-eyed creature. "They still didn't catch that thing!"

Luke watched the three tough-looking characters leave, the many-eyed thing bobbling along unsteadily on its limbs. An uneasy feeling grew in his gut and he quickly turned back to the screen to learn more, but the band started up a new song and any further information was drowned out by the loud horns. Swirling the contents of his glass, he stared down into the amber liquid. He had thought the ronto had been the creature the stormtrooper had been talking about, but now it sounded as if a _second_ thing was out there. Had it been the second thing that had spooked the big saurian and had caused it to run? Luke didn't know much about animals, but he knew they had a far keener sense of smell than humans. Had it smelled a predator lurking somewhere? In theory, it made sense. And this was a spaceport! Luke's blue eyes widened as he realized the animal killing people may not even be from Tatooine. It could have snuck aboard a ship elsewhere and come here…

He felt something touch his shoulder from behind and Luke practically leaped off the bar stool in fright. Turning, he saw it was just Obi-Wan. Sighing, he relaxed against the bar. "Don't _do_ that! You scared me!"

Obi-Wan smiled sheepishly. "Well, I didn't mean to. You need o learn to be more alert. This is a rough place."

"You're telling me! I just saw part of the news!" Luke exclaimed wide-eyed as he moved closer to the Jedi. "There's some _thing_ running around killing people and it's here, in Mos Eisley!"

"Well, we won't be here much longer." Obi-Wan replied as he placed a soothing hand on Luke's shoulder. "I just booked us a flight on a ship called the _Millennium Falcon_. But we'll need to sell your skyhopper to pay the fee, I'm afraid."

Luke downed the rest of his drink in a single swallow and loudly slammed the empty glass back on the bar top. Wiping his mouth with his sleeve, he headed towards the door. "I'll be glad to get off this dust ball of a planet!"

"Things won't be much better in space, I'm afraid." Obi-Wan warned as he followed the younger man out into the brightly lit street. The air was once again clear, all the sand and dust long settled. "You'll be getting yourself involved in a dangerous conflict."

"But she needs help!" Luke insisted as he climbed into his battered skyhopper. He was just glad that it was still here and in one piece. The way that ronto raced through the street, the skyhopper could have been crushed into a pile of twisted metal and then how would they pay the fare? They'd be stuck, that's what! Starting the engine, Luke realized he should just be glad no one was seriously hurt. A bloody nose and scraped palms wasn't a bad price to pay. It was far better then being scraped up by a shovel and being carried to the morgue in a box, that was for sure. As Luke drove down the street in search of the nearest place to sell his T-16, he commented on the situation. "You know, I was so excited to see Mos Eisley from the top of that cliff. It looked so enticing and exciting from up there. But down here you see it's not that way at all. It's dangerous. Not just the ronto and that creature, but I think those guys who left the bar were dangerous, too."

"Most places are that way, Luke." Obi-Wan replied. "They can look beautiful on the outside but be rotten from within. And the same goes for people. Just because a person is beautiful does not mean they're good or if they're ugly that they're bad. Do try and remember that."

Spotting a used airspeeder dealership, Luke parked and bartered with the Jawa that ran the place. Soon he and Obi-Wan were on their way again, the Jedi in the lead. Opening his palm, Luke stared at all the shiny coins. He had never seen so much money in his whole life and certainly not within his hand. To many it may not be a lot, but to him it was a fortune. Even more importantly, it was his ticket off this miserable excuse for a planet. He couldn't wait to get up into space and see the stars, to be free. From now on his life would be better. He'd make something of himself instead of puttering around with his old T-16 and wasting time flying through the canyons at crazy speeds. All of his other friends had already left and by now maybe some of them had careers, careers that meant something. That was far better than struggling to squeeze every drop of water from the sky, as his Aunt and Uncle did. Most times they were lucky if they just broke even, lucky if they didn't starve. Why live that way when there were better worlds out there calling you, better careers to be had? Lifting his head, Luke soon realized he hadn't been paying attention to where he had been going and the Jedi was nowhere in sight.

"How could I have been so careless?" Luke frowned as he bounced up onto his tiptoes to see over the crowd, hoping he could spot the Jedi. A lot of aliens were moving down this street, as it was near the big circular docking bays where the ships were parked. A thick slimy thing made of blubber bumped into him accidentally and Luke stumbled sideways. His back hit the solid wall of a building and one of his precious coins slipped from his grasp. Wide-eyed with worry, Luke watched it roll and bounce down into one of the dark subterranean doorways nearby. Many if not all of the buildings on Tatooine had the majority of the living area underground, the surface being too hot. Fearful that any of the passersby might try to steal his coin, Luke darted after it. His boots slid on the well-used stairs and he lost his balance, sliding the rest of the way to the bottom.

His teeth rattling in his mouth from the bumpy descent, Luke lay still for a moment as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. There was a rank smell down here and he wrinkled his nose at it. Moving to his knees, Luke started to feel around on the ground with his free hand, his other hand still clutching the remaining coins. He had been foolish really, as he should have put the money away into his belt pouch as Ben had instructed. But he had never seen so much before and wanted to look at his momentary wealth, as soon someone else would have it. Still, if they couldn't pay that pilot know it would be entirely his fault and guilt burned within him. "I have to find that coin!"

A low, vibrating sound filled the air around him and Luke froze. Slowly he lifted his head and gazed into the darkness before him, his heart pounding madly within his chest. That sound – it could have been a growl…

… And in the last few days several people have been killed in Mos Eisley, their bodies ripped and torn apart by some unknown creature. If you're in the vicinity, the Empire recommends extreme caution…

The words of the news reporter ran through his head and he gulped, his mouth suddenly bone dry. With a crazed beast on the loose, dashing down into a deserted, dark stairwell had not been the best thing to do. The thing might very well be down here with him. Luke continued to stare into the inky blackness, wishing some of the planet's two suns would shine down here. Maybe there was nothing down here with him at all. Maybe it was just his imagination working overtime, excess stress from the ronto.

But something killed those people!

Luke remembered the stormtroopers riding the Dewbacks, their big guns ready for action and doubted if the Empire would send out so many after a few droids, would they? But then, Ben had claimed they were carrying very important information. Still, he could almost sense something down here with him, a dark and evil presence that stank from blood. His nerves were screaming for him to get out of there, sure any minute he would meet instant death if he stayed one second longer.

And then a pair of yellow eyes appeared from the darkness. They fastened themselves onto him and Luke gulped in fear. He wanted to think it was just some harmless alien, but deep inside he knew it was the beast that had done the awful murders. His body shuddered uncontrollably and his mind blanked out, forgetting the ancient weapon that hung from his belt. The thing stepped closer and now Luke could see even more of it.

The beast's glowing yellow eyes were awful, but what grew directly under those eyes was far worst. A long snout stuck out, ugly wrinkles marring the surface. The mouth dropped open to growl and Luke could see dozens upon dozens of sharp teeth. Dark red stains rimmed the creature's mouth and ran haphazardly down its thick neck and onto its chest. The creature possessed no fur on its face that he could see, except for on the tall pointed ears that grew up out of its head. There, long tuffs of white fur grew out of the ears and they moved with the slightest wind current. Sharp claws grew from its large paws and its upper arms looked a bit bizarre, almost human in shape. It opened its mouth again, its upper lip curling in anger as it growled.

Snapping out of his mindless state, Luke turned and scrambled up the well-worn stone steps as quickly as he could. A wild, primeval scream came from his mouth and the sound startled him, as he didn't realize it had been him who had made it. The sun fell on his face and then his body, the heat sinking into his cooled, terrorized flesh. His boots slipped on the smoothed upper lip of the top step and he fell to the hard ground. Hitting the hard surface, his tightly closed hand opened upon impact and his coins rolled in all directions. Rolling over onto his back, he saw the creature flying at him from within the stairwell. He just had enough time to see a blurred image of it, mainly one of sharp teeth, pale skin and ribs. Then it landed on him hard, its heavy weight pushing him into the un-giving sandy surface beneath him. Instinctively he raised his hands to ward it off, to keep the jaws away from his neck. But his puny arm muscles were no match compared to the impressive strength of the creature. Its sharp teeth bit deep into his shoulder and he screamed.

A panic spread throughout the area as more and more people realized what was happening. Shouting, crying and sounds of horror filled the air as they rushed to get away from the awful beast. People didn't care where they ran; they just dashed into the nearest building and shut the door behind them.

The creature shook its head roughly, its teeth still inside Luke's shoulder. Lifting his arms, he pounded on its face as hard as he could. One fist happened to hit it in an eye, just a lucky blow. Letting go, the thing backed up slightly and growled.

Luke pushed himself to his feet and staggered away from the beast, his blue eyes on the nearest closed door. A loud whimpering sound leaked from his lips, although he was unaware of it. The door seemed miles away and he doubted if he'd reach it in time. The pain in his shoulder, it was unlike anything he had felt before and it thumped with every breath he took. Blood ran down his arm and chest, soaking his clothing. Something hit him from behind with such force it might have been an airspeeder. Falling to the hard ground, he felt the sharp teeth lock into his upper arm and then he was being dragged rapidly over the hard, compacted sand. Buildings and parked vehicles flew past as blurred images, the rough sand scraping his skin right through his white clothing. The creature had him and was dragging him off who knows where. His skin burned where the sharp grains of sand bit into it, literally tearing his skin off bit by bit. As he was dragged, he saw startled faces staring at him.

I'm going to die! I'm going to die!

"LUKE!" Obi-Wan cried as the Jedi appeared from within a shocked crowd, rudely shoving people out of his way.

"Help!" Luke cried in terror as the thing continued to drag him through the streets. His arm felt like it was fire now, the pain making him dizzy and light-headed.

The Jedi ran after Luke, his training helping him to catch up to the much faster beast even though he was old. His lightsaber was lit and he leaped into the air, the blade neatly coming down on the thing's neck, severing its entire head. Black blood gushed out of the ugly wound, soaking the dry parched sand of the street and staining it black. Flipping his saber off, Obi-Wan placed it back on his belt and fell to his knees before Luke. An alarming amount of blood was coming out of the boy's shoulder wound and he placed both hands on the wound, applying pressure. Almost instantly blood appeared between his fingers and started to soak the hems of his robe sleeves. "Luke, stay with me!"

The beast's jaws were still clamped on Luke's arm but the Jedi didn't have time to remove it. Besides, it was better to leave an imbedded object in a person's body, as crazy as that sounded, although it was unclear if that applied to a creature's teeth. If one removed said object, the injured person could rapidly bleed to death and Luke was loosing too much blood the way it was. Obi-Wan increased the pressure on the shoulder wound, adding his weight to it. It didn't look good. The boy was going into shock from blood loss. His face was pale and his breathing shallow. What Luke needed now was a hospital and Obi-Wan was worried that the one in Mos Eisley wasn't up to treating such life-and-death injuries. The scum of the galaxy hung out here and no one cared if they tried to kill each other.

The loud clatter of stormtroopers was heard as well as shouted commands for people to clear out of the way. A distant part of his mind knew the Empire would catch him if he stayed, but the Jedi didn't dare take his hands off of Luke now. If he did, the boy would die. Quickly he was surrounded by armored troops and then a new sound joined the rattle of armor.

Loud, mechanical breathing: it was right behind him and Obi-Wan felt the familiar presence of his former apprentice. It was darker, yes, but still Anakin. And whether if he liked it or not, the Sith Lord was now Luke's best and only chance of survival. Wetting his lips slightly, Obi-Wan spoke the words that might very well spell his own doom.

"I'm sorry, Anakin, but your son is bleeding to death. If we act quickly, we could save him."

To be continued…


	2. Shuttle Ride and ER

Bloodmarrow 2

"My son…." Vader repeated the words in a mild state of shock. Tilting his helmet forward, he gazed down at the sandy-haired boy stretched out on the dusty Mos Eisley street. The young man's eyes were closed so he couldn't tell what color they were, if they were blue like his or brown like Padme's. The boy clearly had his hair coloring though, so it would be good if he had inherited his blue eyes as well. The Sith Lord's eyes lowered to the pale face and he frowned within the black breath mask. The snow-like pallor was extremely alarming, though, as was the sight of so much blood. As a Sith Lord, Vader was no stranger to the sight of red blood or other internal parts scattered about after a battle. Squeamish people didn't last long in the Jedi Order and definitely didn't make it as Sith. Still, this was _his_ son; a product of his love for Padme. This was different, vastly different. The blood that was soaking into Tatooine's harsh and extremely dry sand was his son's blood. The Skywalkers had given too much blood in the past to the planet, sacrificed too many lives. The sand would _not_ have his only child as well!

Signaling to the closest stormtrooper, Vader signaled with a black-gloved hand. "Bring the emergency stretcher from the shuttle. NOW!"

"Right away, Lord Vader!" The stormtrooper saluted and ran off towards the Imperial shuttle that was parked nearby in the cross section of streets, not even bothering to use one of the circular landing bays. On their downward approach to the planet, Vader had sensed Obi-Wan's distress and panic clearly through the Force. Dreading the worst, he had easily pinpointed the Jedi's location and had ordered the shuttle to land as close as possible. All shuttles included emergency medical supplies in their set of standard equipment, the stuff stowed away near the rear. Having retrieved the desired item, the stormtrooper and several of his fellows raced with it towards the injured man.

While the stormtroopers were getting the stretcher, Vader stared down at the beast's detached head. In his long career with the Empire he'd never run across this particular creature or had even read of anything like it. To say it was ugly was an understatement. It was hideous.

And unfair! Yes, it was totally unfair!

/I've spent twenty years searching for my son and now he's dying, mauled by some ugly beast!./

Vader's eyes shifted to Obi-Wan. "This is your fault!"

"Anakin, no! I killed it as soon as I could!" Obi-Wan pleaded as he continued to press his blood-covered hands onto the shoulder wound. Blood was still spouting out from between his fingers and the Jedi feared that any minute Luke would die. His breathing had gone shallow, the pulse at his neck erratic. Lifting his head and glancing towards the crossroads, he was relieved to see the stormtroopers running towards him with the stretcher. Within seconds they had set it down and then spread out around the injured man. Each one gripping a body part, they lifted him together and placed him on the stretcher, Obi-Wan keeping his hands on the wound during the entire process. "Believe me, Anakin, I never meant for this to happen! I spent the last twenty years of my life watching over your son from a distance, never letting danger get near him! I would gladly give my life to save him!"

"How did this happen, Obi-Wan?" Vader demanded to know as he glared at his former Master. Obi-Wan had grown old over the years, the harsh climate being unkind to his appearance. His skin was dry, wrinkled and badly weathered; his hair white and thinning, unevenly cut. The well-kept man Anakin had known in his Jedi days was long gone. It appeared as if he still wore the same robes. Perhaps they were his only bit of clothing. The robes themselves were old and worn much like the man himself, stained and tattered, covered with dust and sand. Outrage began to grow in the Sith Lord and he kicked the beast's body with the toe of his boot. "How could you let this thing maul my son?"

"I thought he was right behind me!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, full well knowing it wasn't a real excuse. He had no excuse. "How was I supposed to know this would happen?"

"Because you are a Jedi!" Vader exclaimed, knowing he wasn't making very much sense at the moment. No, even the foolish Jedi couldn't predict the future. Palpatine had proven that beyond a doubt. And he knew Obi-Wan. He knew how the man was forever getting himself into dangerous situations as if he were a danger magnet. Vader had lost count of the number of times he had to save the man in the past. If it weren't for him, Obi-Wan would have perished long ago. Realizing precise time was slipping away as his son's life slipped between the Jedi's sticky fingers, Vader spoke to the stormtroopers. "Get him aboard the shuttle! And call the Medics on Executor. Have them waiting in the landing bay! I will _not_ have my son die here!"

"Yes, Lord Vader!" The stormtroopers picked the stretcher up and quickly ran with it towards the waiting shuttle, they and Obi-Wan managing to move together. The creature's ugly head was still attached to Luke's arm and Obi-Wan kept it on the stretcher with his body, dark blood from the severed neck soaking the front of his robes and tunic.

Obi-Wan turned to glance back at Vader. "Bring the body! The doctors might want it."

Deep, dark hatred bubbled in Vader as he stared at the body of the creature, but he reached out with the Force and levitated it into the shuttle. It more than anything was responsible for his son's condition and he vowed he'd discover exactly where it had come from. He was positive no such beast lived on Tatooine or he would have heard of it long ago. Wherever it had come from, it looked half starved with its ribs clearly showing. It had paws like a common beast, rubbery pads on the bottom. Sharp claws protruded from each finger, allowing it to both run faster and to hang onto prey once it was caught. The back haunches looked powerful, yet disturbing. Something about its shape greatly disturbed the Sith Lord. It just seemed _wrong_ somehow and he quickly considered if it may be an illegal experiment conducted by some unknown scientist. Then again, the galaxy was huge and more things existed under the night sky then one thought possible. A scrawny tail covered in white hair poked out the creature's rear and a line of jagged bumps ran down the center of its back where the spine would be. Dumping the headless carcass onto the metal deck, he quickly moved to stand beside the stretcher in the back. Obi-Wan once again was kneeling on the floor, his hands covering the terrible wound.

/He is so young, my son…/

By his clothes, Vader surmised that he had lived most of his life on Tatooine, perhaps a moisture farm. The fragments of a report drifted to the forefront of his mind. Hadn't the stormtroopers reported tracking the droids to a farm? Could it be the same one where his son had been staying? It's clear Obi-Wan certainly hadn't trained the boy as a Jedi. If he had, a simple animal never would have harmed him like this. Then a silver glint near his son's side caught his attention and leaning closer, he realized it was his old lightsaber. The boy had been armed and he hadn't even used it!

/He must have lived a sheltered life. Perhaps the Lars…/

Yes, he remembered his relatives on Tatooine. They had been good people or so he had told Padme all those years ago. Had they been the ones killed by his stormtroopers? The thought was disturbing. It was a very poor way to repay them for raising his son. They were simple farm folk and knew nothing of the ways of the galaxy. Most likely they didn't even know the stolen plans had been inside the droids.

/Yet more of my family's blood claimed by the sand…/

Force, he really hated Tatooine!

"What is his name?" Vader finally asked the Jedi. He knew the shuttle would be docking soon within _Executor's_ huge bay and then there would be lots of frantic activity. Through some miracle, he had managed to stop himself from killing his former Master as he may have in another situation. With his son unconscious and possibly dying, the Jedi was his only source of information. "Why have you kept my son from me all these years?"

"His name is Luke." Obi-Wan lifted his head to stare up at Vader's black breath mask. He felt guilty for the awful fate that had befallen Anakin. It had been his fault, really. He should have stood up to the Council years ago when they had assigned Anakin his own mission, as he had known the boy wasn't ready yet to be on his own. It was then that Anakin had first taken that dark and dangerous step to the Dark Side, killing the tribe of Sandpeople that had murdered his poor mother. If he had been with him, the galaxy may not be in the mess it was now. He could have helped the distraught boy, held him, comforted him, anything. Perhaps they even could have rescued his mother together. The point being, Anakin wouldn't have been alone that fateful day and things would have been different. The Council had only looked at Anakin's _powers_. They hadn't thought of his emotional development. And it was sheer foolishness assigning him to work so closely to a woman he clearly was in love with! The Council had been aware of those feelings and had done it on purpose. But as Anakin's Master, it all rested on _his_ shoulders. He had been too soft in regards to the Council, have caved in too easily to their commands. He had thought they knew what was best, even though he had serious doubts lurking within his mind and heart. He should have spoken up instead of remaining silent, as he had done in too many occasions. If only he could have been brave like Qui-Gon. "We … we weren't hiding him from you really, but from Palpatine…"

"Luke…" Vader said, testing the name.

Luke's eyelids fluttered and then slowly opened. Turning his head slightly, he winched in pain. "Ben?"

"I'm here, Luke." Obi-Wan replied softly. He knew it was best to keep an injured person calm, so the last thing he wanted to do was upset the boy. "You'll be in the hospital soon…"

"I … I feel cold." Luke stated, unknowingly repeated what his father had said years ago when he had left Tatooine for the first time.

"Luke…" Vader breathed loudly as he knelt down near the boy's stretcher across from Obi-Wan. "I am your father. I promise I will not let anything happen to you."

Hearing the new voice, low in timber with the harsh mechanical breathing, Luke slowly shifted his head to the other side. His blue eyes fastened onto the black breath mask, white highlights reflecting off the many curves and angles panes. He knew he should know that face or lack of one, but it was hard for him to think for some reason. Perhaps the cold was numbing his brain? But how could he be cold on Tatooine? Unless all the suns had set…

Reaching out, Vader gripped his son's limp and cold hand. To his alarm, the boy's fingernails look pale and white instead of the normal rosy pink.

/He has lost too much blood…./

Stretching out towards him with the Force, he was a bit relieved to see Luke's spirit still seemed to be strong. Perhaps he wasn't really in as bad shape as he appeared? "Did you hear me, Luke? I am your father."

"Father?" Luke gazed dumbly up at the black breath mask. He remembered he had always wanted a father. Could this all be a dream? Was he asleep in his bed at home? If so, he would be in trouble with Owen if he didn't wake up on time and do his chores…

"Yes, your father." Vader replied as he tightened his grip on the boy's hand.

"Anakin, I really don't think he's coherent." Obi-Wan stated. The blood had stopped oozing out of the shoulder wound and the Jedi didn't know if that was good or bad. Had he finally run out of blood or had the wound finally matted, producing a scab? He thought of removing his hands to take a peek but didn't dare, less the bleeding start up again. The Jedi knew he was in anything but a good situation. Vader could kill him at any time. In fact, it wouldn't surprise him one bit if Anakin did just that for the awful fate that had befallen Luke. He had screwed up _both_ Skywalkers' lives, so perhaps he deserved death.

"Lord Vader, the shuttle has landed!" One of the stormtroopers informed him.

Quickly the stretcher was carried out of the Imperial shuttle and into the huge landing bay. Instantly the medical crew took over and they started to run with the anti-gravity stretcher towards _Executor's_ well equip. Sick Bay.

"Blood pressure is falling!" One of the emergency doctors shouted.

"Subject is in Hypovolemic shock!" A second said.

"Heartbeat is rapid, tachycardia pulse! Breathing shallow…" A third added as they rushed Luke down the glistening hallways of Executor. "Major trauma to upper right shoulder. Bite wound…"

"The animal's head will need to be checked for pathogens!" The first doctor said as they rounded a corner.

Darth Vader rapidly strode down the hallway after the medics, his black cape swirling out behind him. Their medical talk was unnerving him, not because he didn't understand it but because he did. Shock and low blood pressure wasn't good, obviously. People could die from shock and the last thing he wanted was to loose Luke now that he had just found him. His mood was dark and sour, other crewmembers rapidly getting out of his way by mere instinct. It wasn't good to cross his path in ideal conditions and now, well, someone could easily end up dead.

/I will not loose him now! Not after all these years of searching!./

He would do _anything_ to save the boy, no matter the costs. If it took every credit in his huge amassed bank account, he would spend it gladly. Over the years he had become the second richest man in the galaxy but he never really spent any of it, dreaming of the day he'd finally find his lost child. That day was now and he would not loose again! Death would not steal this gift from him, not now and not ever! He would cheat death and snag the boy from its skeletal grasp no matter what.

/You will live, Luke! Do you hear me? LIVE!./

He willed the boy to recover, as if that alone could heal his injuries. Vader was not a doctor and knew just the basics of emergency medical aid from his Jedi days, but he was smart enough to haul the carcass with him. The last thing he wanted was to loose precious time by having to send brainless troopers back to the shuttle to retrieve it. No, this was far too important to trust to stormtroopers. The headless beast floated before the Sith Lord as he almost ran after the stretcher and doctors. Passing crew uttered shocked sounds at the sight but Vader ignored them. Panic grew within him when Sick Bay still wasn't in sight. Why was it taking so long? Why did the medical section have to be so far away from the landing bay? Logically he knew it was for safety reasons. Sick Bay was stationed at the very center of the ship so it wouldn't get damaged during an attack and he had never really thought of it before. It had just been another fact in his head. But now…now the hallways had never seemed so long. He found his mechanical heart beating faster, a sour sweat collecting on his brow. If his hands had been real he was sure they'd be cold and clammy from sheer worry. Aggravated beyond belief, he gripped both hands into fists and willed they move faster.

/We should be there by now! Luke can't die in the corridor!./

And he would, unless they got there soon! He ticked off the number of corridor sections yet to traverse and his hope bloomed. Only three more left! Those three rapidly passed and soon they rolled through the main doors into the large and well-lit Sick Bay. Luke was automatically steered towards the emergency room and a doctor put up a hand to stop Vader from entering.

'I'm sorry, Lord Vader, but only medical personnel are permitted in here. You'll have to wait outside." The doctor bravely spoke, his voice quivering in fear.

"He is my son!" Vader stated as if that explained it all. "I will be with him."

Just then a loud shout came from the emergency room. "He's having some sort of seizure!"

Lord Vader shoved the startled doctor out of the way and hurried into the room. Luke's body quivered and shook on the long operating table, a cluster of doctors around him. The Sith Lord's mechanical heart leaped up into his throat in intense fear, a fear he hadn't felt such he had become a Sith.

/No! You can't die now!./

Just as quickly as the seizure had come, it ended and Luke's body collapsed back onto the table. But to Vader's surprise and utter joy, his chest continued to rise and fall.

"What was that?" one of the doctors asked another. "It wasn't his heart…"

"Not sure…" Another replied as his eyes darted to the ugly head attacked to the young man's arm. "Could be something from _that_."

All the doctors shifted their gaze momentarily to the ugly head and a collective shudder passed around. They all knew too well the horrible diseases animals could carry. A bite by itself was bad enough, even from a healthy animal. Bites almost always grew infected, especially if deep puncture wounds were involved. Still, infections they could treat. It was pathogens that could cause problems. And some alien species carried really nasty ones.

"We better get Dr. Corrigan up here…" One of the doctors said as he finally tore his eyes off the beast's head. "And someone please remove that head, but be extremely careful. We don't know what it may be carrying…"

Two nurses moved to do his bidding and a third paged Dr. Corrigan.

Feeling utterly helpless amid the medical bustle, Vader inched backward out of the room. Whether he liked it or not, his son's life was now in the hands of the doctors and all he could do was wait. Floating the grisly carcass onto an unoccupied gurney, he started to pace around the room. The outer doors swooshed open and Vader's private physician, Dr. Corrigan, hurried past him with a curt nod and disappeared within the operating room. Stretching out with the Force towards his son, Vader was reassured he was still alive. He could feel the boy through the Force, his life a steady glow. Surely it shouldn't be that steady, should it? He had thought the boy close to death…

/I must congratulate Dr. Corrigan and his expert team of doctors on their fine work!./

Yes, he was sure now Luke would live. A warm feeling of relief flooded his body and his mechanical legs felt oddly weak. Spotting a chair next to the wall, Vader called it to him with the Force and sat.

/Luke will live!./

The thought was overwhelming after the high tension. It wouldn't surprise him if his droid parts had spilled some of their oil during the stressful situation.

Droid parts…

A cold feeling of dread chilled his heart. What shape was Luke in? Would he loose the arm that had been bitten by that awful thing? How much damage did his poor son sustain? It was bad enough he had to walk around relying on droid parts. He would never wish it on his offspring!

/I hope he will be all right…./

Yes, he must stop thinking negatively, especially now. Obi-Wan had taught him that years ago and although he mainly ignored it, now would be a good time to actually follow it. Obi-Wan had been shackled securely, his lightsaber dangling now from Vader's belt, and escorted to a secure cell. He would talk to the man later, but now he only cared about Luke. But no matter what shape Luke was in, as long as he survived he was his son. Nothing would stop that fact. Anything he needed he would get for him, even if it required expensive specialists. Money was no object when it came to his family.

Time seemed to crawl past and Vader grew more anxious. What was taking them so long? He could feel Luke was OK and out of danger. The blood loss must not have been as serious as it had appeared to be or else he would be dead. Surely that was the main problem with a bite, wasn't it?

/Something else is wrong…./

Vader frowned under his black breath mask. He just knew it. His helmeted head turned and he found himself gazing at the headless corpse of the beast.

/There's something wrong with that thing…/

Just then the door to the ER opened and Dr. Corrigan emerged. Unlike others who relied on droid doctors, Vader preferred the real thing: a human physician who knew what he was doing. The middle-aged man had been with him for years and sported silvery white hair neatly trimmed. His white surgeons uniform was speckled with bits of blood and the Sith Lord was shocked how the simple spots of red bothered him. The doctor removed his gloves and tossed them in a special bag, sealing it.

Vader rose to his feet, his nerves jumping. "How is Luke?"

"For now, he is fine." Dr. Corrigan replied in a calm voice. "He's recovering from his ordeal and you can see him if you want."

" I would very much like to do so." Vader replied.

"We've moved him to a new room. This way please." Dr. Corrigan led Lord Vader down the hall of Sick Bay to one of the private rooms. Opening the door, the doctor led him inside.

Vader moved to Luke's bed and was relieved to see his skin had some color in it now. In fact, his tan from living on Tatooine was showing remarkably well – an odd sight indeed. His son was shirtless and he very carefully eased the light blanket off his chest so he could take a look at the wounds. The doctors, of course, had already removed all the blood and this was the first time he'd see the actual wounds themselves. Shutting his eyes tightly, Vader prepared himself for the worst. When he felt ready, he opened his eyes and saw a few white scars.

Puzzled, Darth Vader turned to look at the doctor. "Where are the wounds? Surely you couldn't heal them that quickly!"

"I'm afraid we need to have a long conversation, Lord Vader." Dr. Corrigan began, his voice slightly uneasy. "When we cleaned the blood off the wounds, they were as you see them…"

Cold shock raced through the Sith Lord. "Are you saying the bites healed themselves?"

"Yes, I'm afraid I am."

"But that's impossible!" Vader exclaimed.

"I'm sorry, Lord Vader, but your son is infected with a rare pathogen." Dr. Corrigan stated.

To be continued…


	3. Metoncedo Belua

Bloodmarrow 3

"What pathogen?" Darth Vader demanded to know, the unease growing within the pit of his stomach. The Sith Lord was no doctor, but he had never heard of a disease that could heal wounds.

"Come into my office and I'll explain it." Dr. Corrigan replied, a grim expression on his face, his eyes shifting to Luke. "Oh, and may I request some stormtroopers be stationed here?"

"Stormtroopers?" Vader asked, dumbfounded. Inside his mask, Vader's mouth had dropped open in bewilderment, his upper lip curled slightly. His brows knitted together and he gawked at the doctor, thankful that the black breath mask hid his stupid expression. "Why would you need stormtroopers? He's just a sick and badly injured boy!"

"As true as it may be, he's also contagious." Corrigan explained as he led the way out of the room towards his office. "The last thing we need is someone to bumble in there and get infected…"

"Contagious?" Vader stopped dead in his tracks, the horrible word repeating in his head. It was a word he knew well, too well. In the past, a deadly virus had escaped out of a secure medical facility. Unfortunately, that facility had been in the center of a huge city. Since the Empire couldn't risk the deadly disease spreading across the galaxy and killing trillions upon trillions of innocents, they had done the only thing possible. Using the powerful laser weapons on _Executor_, they had destroyed the entire city with aerial bombardment from space. The order had come directly from Palpatine himself so there was little he could do. With modern space travel, it would be all too easy for the deadly plague to reach every planet in the galaxy within a month. Chaos would reign and with no known cure, it would be utter disaster on a scale no one had ever heard of before. Of course, when it would be over there would be no one to tell the tale…

/Not Luke! Not my son!./

If the boy truly had contracted some awful contagious disease, the doctors may want to destroy him! Or if Palpatine heard of it…

Palpatine was still doing what he thought best for the galaxy and in most cases Vader agreed. The old man had done many wonderful things. He had built schools, provided training and jobs for those who would otherwise either starve or be forced to turn to crime just to survive, he had built a police force, locked up all criminals and he stopped deadly diseases before they spread. He stated several times in the Senate that he was just doing what was best for the general public. Although it had seemed cruel to kill that entire city, Vader had carried out the assignment with ease. Up in space one didn't see the twisted rubble, the smoke hanging in the air, the awful stench of burned flesh that clung to the back of your throat. Nor did you hear the cries of terror and the loud explosions that accompanied the city blowing up. And if you sleep wasn't good that night, well, you could always blame it on what you ate. But this…

The cold horror of the situation clarified in his mind and his stomach flip-flopped. He could imagine the order coming in over the hyperspace channel…

_Luke Skywalker has become a threat to the galaxy. You will kill him, Lord Vader. _

The words floated through his mind. Yes, he could imagine Palpatine saying that all too easily. The old man would sit there in his fancy black throne and gloat. No, he would laugh! He delighted in killing Jedi and he would see the boy as a threat! The threat would have nothing to do with the disease at all, just that he had the Force within him. What did it matter to the old man that Luke was just a boy and he knew nothing of lightsabers?

/He had made me kill Younglings…./

At the time he had been foolishly out of his mind with desperation so he had obeyed. What else could he do, anyway? Mace had already been gone. He had chosen sides and had stupidly picked Palpatine. Once the deed had been done, he himself had been stuck. So in a way he had been forced to do Palpatine's bidding. He hadn't thought of the destruction of the Jedi Temple in decades, but now it was all coming to the forefront of his mind. Several young faces from his past flashed before his open eyes, looks of horror carved in their unmoving faces. Their eyes accused him of their murder…

Palpatine would do the same to his son. He would be just as uncaring as he himself had been that awful day on Coruscant. The old man didn't have a real compassionate bone in his entire body.

/I will not kill my son!./

A sharp pain stabbing at his chest brought Vader back to reality. Stumbling forward, he braced one hand against the nearby wall, the other on his chest. The pain blazed brightly and he closed his eyes tightly, his breathing fast. "There is a pain in my chest…"

"An anxiety attack…" Dr. Corrigan replied, his eyes filled with concern. Moving to help the tall Sith Lord, he wrapped one of Vader's arms about his shoulders and gently led him to his office. Once Vader was seated, the doctor moved around his desk and seated himself. The doctor's office was nothing fancy. It had the usual desk and computer terminals, a shiny white floor and pale peach walls. Relaxing paintings of nature hung on the wall: a green forest dappled with sunlight, a peaceful thatched cottage during the colorful autumn and a beautiful sunset in the tropics; the red light reflecting off the gently rolling ocean. A few curios sat on his desktop, souvenirs from the worlds he had visited. Relaxing back in his chair, the doctor eyed the man in black armor. "You must really care about your son."

"Of course I do. I've been searching for him my entire adult life." Vader breathed slightly easier, the pain disappearing. Glancing down at the panel of lights on his chest, he noticed that none of them had gone off in alarm. If it had been a real medical emergency, they would have. He, of course, knew what an anxiety attack was. It mimicked a heart attack and was mainly caused by stress. Odd that he had never had one before…

Clearing his mind of the phantom pain the best he could, Vader relaxed more in his chair. "This pathogen. It's not air born, is it?"

"No, it's carried in the blood." Dr. Corrigan began to explain as he leaned forward over his desk. "That beast that bit your son carried the germs in its saliva. That's how he got infected. We're just lucky that none of the medical staff got infected when they worked on him. Thank the Force for gloves and face masks…"

"This disease," Vader started to say, his nerves jumping again. "Is it fatal?"

The question hung in the air.

/Please, don't let it be fatal!./

"No, it's not fatal. That's not the problem." Dr. Corrigan sighed loudly. Placing both hands on his desk, he continued. "The problem is this virus, if it even is a virus, is very complex. Simply put, it's rewriting your son's DNA."

Vader blinked within the mask. "What?"

"I said, it's rewriting his DNA."

Darth Vader was stunned. He knew what DNA was. It was a person's genetic identity. Luke would have inherited DNA from both his parents. Some of it determined what color his hair and eyes were, how tall he would grow. Other bits of it said he was human. And now this pathogen was _stealing_ his very humanity from him? "I have never heard of such a thing! How is that even possible?"

"Well, the disease itself is called _Metoncedo Belua_." Dr. Corrigan explained as he waved a hand about in the air. "Not much is known about it, I'm afraid. It's extremely rare and more a myth. From what I understand, the disease organism attacks the bone marrow and makes a home there. It does this very quickly, right after the attack. Then it hijacks the stem cells. Stem cells are produced in the bone marrow and they can turn into any other type of cell needed, whether it is bone, skin, hair or whatever you need. Normally that's how the body heals itself. But with _Metoncedo Belua_, the stem cells are being used to _change_ a person."

A moment of silence passed.

"I'm afraid in a short time, your son will no longer be your son."

Darth Vader was stunned. His mechanical breathing was loud in the room, the sound echoing off the walls. He could understand Luke dying in a battle or of a life-threatening wound. He wouldn't like it, but he could understand it. But this, this was just insane! Organisms had found all sorts of ways to reproduce, the most common being sexual reproduction. Then there was asexual reproduction, where a creature simply split in half when it grew old enough. And here, apparently, was a third way: it infected someone and stole his or her body.

/But what is Luke turning into?./

The Sith Lord pondered that for a moment, his breath rattling in his lungs. A cold dread had settled in his body, like when you knew something terrible was going to happen and you were powerless to stop it. Here he had all this power at his disposal and it was useless against this bug that had taken his son over. He would not loose the boy this way, not after all this searching! His robotic hand tightened into a fist and he slammed it down onto the doctor's desk, one of the souvenirs leaping upward and crashing to the floor. "You will find a cure!"

Dr. Corrigan gulped nervously, the bump in his throat moving. His blue eyes widened in fear and he jerked back in his seat, as if mere distance could save him. "But Lord Vader, there is no cure!"

"Excuses do not concern me! You will find a cure!" Vader coldly repeated. "I will not loose my son to this abolition!"

"I … I suppose we could try a bone marrow transplant…." Dr. Corrigan nervously stated, his eyes locked on the emotionless breath mask.

"And this would cure him?" Vader asked, his hope rising.

"I … I don't know!" Dr. Corrigan admitted honestly. "Bone marrow transplants are not usually done in less the person is dying or has no other hope, as they're dangerous. Ten percent of the people who undergo them die. That may seem low to you, but I assure you it's a very high death rate. At the moment, your son is doing fine. Are you sure you wish to subject him to such a thing, especially since we don't know if it'll work?"

"What exactly would this entail?" The Sith Lord asked.

"We would irradiate him to kill his own bone marrow. Once that is done, we use an i.v. and cathererto replace his bone marrow with that of a donor. The tiny bits of bone marrow enter his blood stream and travel in the blood until they reach his marrow. They will settle there and start to grow. In fact, that's exactly how _Metoncedo Belua_ works. We would just be repeating the process. Of course, we can only do the transplant if we have a suitable donor."

"I will be the donor." Vader stated. "I am his father."

"Well, even if you are his father that does not mean you can be his donor." Dr. Corrigan's nimbler fingers flew over his computer and quickly pulled up Vader's medical file. "Well, I see you still have your original pelvis, so it's possible we could use you as a donor, if your HLA matches that of your son, that is…"

"HLA?" Vader asked, unfamiliar with the term.

"It has to do with matching genes and tissue types." Dr. Corrigan explained. "Simply put, if yours do not match your son's, then you can't be a donor. Siblings generally match better than a parent."

The Sith Lord frowned under his mask. It sounded like there was a great likelihood that his HLA would not match Luke's. Still, he had to try. There was just so much he didn't know about his son. In fact, he knew nothing! He didn't know his favorite food, his hobbies or if he were allergic to anything. And the people that did know, the Lars, were probably dead. He needed to acquire Luke's medical records. If his memory served him correctly, Anchorhead was the nearest town to where the Lars' farm had been. Perhaps Luke had files there. One could only hope that the Lars had taken him to a doctor on occasion and not been too paranoid about the Empire looking for the child. "I am afraid Luke is an only child…"

"I will run a test to see if you two match." Dr. Corrigan stated.

"Good." Vader rose to his full height. "You should contact the medical facility at Anchorhead, check if they have any files on Luke. It would be the town closest to where he grew up, I believe. It may be under the name Skywalker or even Lars. And now I will go sit with my son."

The doctor agreed and begun the process of contacting the planet below, as _Executor_ was still in orbit around Tatooine.

Darth Vader rapidly strode the short distance back to Luke's private room. Opening the door, he entered silently and closed it behind him. He spotted a chair by the bedside and sat down, his mind heavy with thoughts. Should he order the doctor to do the transfusion, even though it may not work? Was it even right that he make the decision? Luke didn't even know him. He may be the boy's father but Luke knew nothing of him, just as he knew nothing of his son. He desperately wanted time to get to know the young man his son had grown into, but how could he with this DNA snatching disease? His son may be gone before he even got the chance to know him.

/It's not fair!./

No, it wasn't. The galaxy seemed to enjoy playing cruel tricks on him all the time!

/I'm cursed!./

Lifting his helmeted head, Vader studied the sleeping young man. The light blanket had been thrown off and hung off the bed sloppily. Long, jagged white scars marred the skin of his shoulder and others ran along his upper arm, the only visible signs of his recent attack. A slight sense of awe gripped him at the sight and Vader moved one black-gloved hand outward to touch the faint white lines.

/How can this be? If I would have had this ability years ago…./

Vader's hand paused and then he jerked it back, shocked. What had he just been thinking? This DNA snatcher was a bad thing!

/People used to fear Force Users thousands of years ago, too…/

Yes, that much was true. And as he examined his sleeping son in more detail, he realized Luke really didn't look all that bad really. Except for a slight sheen of sweat on his forehead, he seemed normal enough.

/Perhaps Luke will be OK and won't need that transfusion after all…/

The boy certainly didn't look ill and a slight fever couldn't be that bad, not after what had happened to him. The pleasant thought reassured him and he breathed more easily. As he leaned back in the chair, Luke moaned and slowly opened his eyes. Glancing around, the boy's wide blue eyes fell on the Sith Lord. Startled, Luke jerked upright and away from the masked man. "Who … who are you?"

"I am your father, Luke." Vader replied as calmly as he could. A warm feeling of relief flooded his system as he saw the boy was coherent as well as awake. That was a good sign, a very good sign.

Luke's eyes widened even further. "My … father? But you're … you're …"

"Darth Vader?" Vader asked, his black breath mask hiding a smile.

"Yeah, him!" Luke nodded, his shaggy sandy hair dangling in his eyes. Impatiently he shoved it out of the way. "You can't be my father! Ben told me he died years ago, that he was a Jedi and fought in the clone wars…."

"Yes, I did fight in the Clone Wars and I was a Jedi." Vader explained, his mind traveling backward to long ago days. "I was badly injured, burned by lava. When that happened, I changed my name. I became Darth Vader instead of Anakin Skywalker. I have been searching for you all these long years, Luke. I thought I would never find you, but I did. And I'm glad that I've found you at last. Now we can have a life together…"

Luke's bottom jaw hung open and he weakly collapsed back against his pillow, his eyes still on Vader. He couldn't believe it! Darth Vader was his father! Vader was only the most powerful and richest guy in the whole galaxy, in command of big Imperial Star Destroyers and even appeared on the news! The news! It just couldn't be. "There must be some mistake. I mean, I can't be your son. I mean, I'm a nobody and you're … you're Darth Vader!"

Still smiling under the mask, Vader reassured him. "You are my son, Luke. The fact that Obi-Wan was with you proves it. He used to be my former Master. He trained me to be a Jedi."

"Oh." Luke replied in a small voice. He remembered Ben telling him something about a former apprentice that had turned to the Dark Side and had become Darth Vader. "Ben did say something about that, but he made it sound like he had two apprentices. I guess he just didn't want me to know…"

Suddenly a more recent memory surfaced in Luke's mind and he shot upright in bed. "That thing! It attacked me!"

"The beast is dead, Luke. You are safe aboard my ship, _Executor_." Vader placed a calming hand on Luke's uninjured shoulder and gently pressed him back onto his back. "You are in Sick Bay. My physician has seen to your wounds…"

At this, Vader paused. He was uncertain if he should tell the boy what Corrigan had told him. It might just upset him further. He did seem quite excitable. Perhaps it would be better just to talk to him? "Tell me, Luke. What were you doing in Mos Eisley?"

"Well, we were…" Luke paused, his mouth hanging open. He didn't know if he should tell Vader the truth or not. Ben had warned him they needed to avoid the Empire. Had it not been the Empire that had destroyed the only home he'd known, killed his Aunt and Uncle? Were they not the ones holding the Princess captive? And how could he know that this masked man was telling him the truth? What if it was all some elaborate trick to gain his trust so he'd answer their questions? Maybe Vader had somehow found out about his desire for a father and had decided to use that in a ruse to gain his trust? Darth Vader just _couldn't_ be his father! Luke closed his mouth and cautiously peered at his injured shoulder instead. He half feared to find some horribly mangled flesh, something that looked like it had gotten caught in a skyhopper air intake valve and ran through the engine several times. But his eyes only found smooth skin a tad redder than normal crisscrossed by white scars. Shocked, he turned to gaze at the Sith Lord. "Did your doctor fix it that well? I thought it'd be all gross!"

Vader sighed. He really didn't care if Luke told him what they had been doing in Mos Eisley; it wasn't important. But Luke's health was important. "How do you feel?"

Luke cautiously poked at his shoulder with his other hand, being careful to be gentle. His shoulder felt stiff and sore when he moved it a bit, as if he had fallen off his Uncle's old speederbike. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. "Well, I don't feel too bad. I'm sleepy and feel like I got the flu or something. But my shoulder or arm doesn't hurt. It's just a bit stiff, the bite area slightly tender…"

/I hope he will be all right…/

The flu-like symptoms were a concern. Was the boy simply tired and weak from almost dying or was the doctor correct? The flu Luke was reporting could very well be that _Metoncedo Belua_ working inside him. It was clear he had a fever, as beads of sweat kept appearing on his forehead, several fine strands of hair wet with sweat and sticking to his skin. His face was also looking slightly greasy, evidence of more sweat.

"Where's Ben?" Luke asked, his voice slightly worried. Although he didn't exactly know what a Sith Lord was, he did grasp that the two men were not exactly friends. Concern for the kind old hermit filled his heart and he reached out for one of Vader's black-gloved hands. Grasping one, he held onto it tightly. "Please tell me you didn't hurt him! He saved my life, twice! First from the Sandpeople and then again from that awful thing! If you did anything to him…"

"No, I didn't do anything to Obi-Wan." Vader said as he glanced down at their clasped hands, wishing his hand were real so he could feel it. At this moment, he would give anything to have real hands again just so he could experience the sensation of his son holding his hand. It was stupid and sentimental really and unworthy of a Sith, but still he desired it greatly.

/I'll never be able to feel my son with these hands or arms…./

Droid parts, as efficient and strong as they were, couldn't feel the sensations that human skin could. It was cold, ugly and full of wires. It's one of the reasons that he always wore black gloves, to hide the ugly bare droid parts. This way, at least some of the crew thought he was human. "I've given him accommodations on the ship…:

"You didn't put him in the brig?" Luke cried, horrified. He was sure his father, if that's who this masked man really was, had put poor Ben in the brig. "You can't do that to him!"

"Why not?" Vader asked, curiosity biting at him.

"Because he was going to get me off that miserable, sorry excuse of a dustball!" Luke almost shouted. "I was going to go train to be a Jedi and rescue a Princess and …." Realizing what he had just said, Luke slapped a hand over his mouth. Wide-eyed, he watched Darth Vader to see what he would do.

/Ah, so that is what they were doing in Mos Eisley! They were going to hire a ship to rescue Princess Leia…/

In that one wildly blurted sentence, Vader had learned much about his son. He now knew that Luke didn't like living on Tatooine any more than he had, that he had dreams of being a Jedi and he apparently had a hero streak running through him somewhere. In other words, he was very much like his younger self. Obi-Wan had obviously convinced him to go on some badly planned mission, no doubt one being made up as they went along. Typical Obi-Wan. "Luke, believe it or not, but I was very much like you when I was younger. I loved going on missions with Obi-Wan, but he is accident-prone. More often than not I ended up saving his life. And you need to train up a bit before you're ready to go anywhere."

Luke's face fell and he slumped against his pillow. "I know…"

"Someday you'll be a great Jedi, Luke." Vader told him as he rose to his full height. "But for now you should get some sleep. I will be back to talk with you later…"

"All right." Luke yawned. He did feel sleepy. Reaching downward with his good arm, he pulled the blanket up to his chin and snuggled underneath it. Within moments, he had fallen asleep.

Vader watched him for a long moment and then exited the room. He still hoped that the boy was just suffering from exhaustion and blood loss, stress. Yet he could not get the doctor's words out of his head. Nor did he have the heart to tell him that he might have to suffer a horrible medical procedure soon. Luke was too kind-hearted and he needed his rest. If he had told him, he suspected the boy would fret and worry non-stop. Nor did he miss the boy's suspicion and doubt through the Force. Perhaps if he could get Obi-Wan to tell Luke the truth, the boy would finally believe he was his father. Not that he really blamed Luke for doubting him. After being raised on a moisture farm, it must be daunting to realize Darth Vader was your father. Vader knew all too well how famous and powerful he'd grown in the Empire. Even the Tatooine peasants knew who he was.

/But I would trade it all if I could hold Luke in my real arms…./

Over the long years since his injury, Vader had lost count of the times he had attempted to heal himself with the Force. Sadly, it never worked. And doctors could only do so much.

/Yet Luke's awful wound had been healed…/

What exactly was this _Metoncedo Belua_ and what exactly did it do? The doctor said it changed people and that Luke wouldn't be his son any more, yet the boy looked just fine. Tired, yes and a bit achy, but he saw no serious harm from it. He had even sat up in bed for a while and talked. If Luke was already strong enough for that, then it couldn't be all that bad, could it? Determination in his step, Vader left the medical section and headed to his private quarters. The stress of the situation had wrung him out and he needed some nutrients. Because he was always forced to wear the breath mask, he always ate alone. It never really bothered him all that much, still there were a few times when he missed the companionship during a meal. The laughing, talking or just the company of another person; it would be nice to experience that again. Yes, he would very much like to eat meals with Luke once the boy got better.

/But that would be impossible…/

He needed his special air in the room and it may be unsafe for Luke to breathe it. He had spent so much time searching for his unknown child that Vader had never contemplated what it would be like when he found him. He couldn't feel Luke's hand with his, he couldn't share meals with him, and he couldn't even look at him with his real eyes! They could never laugh together because his breathing didn't allow for that. And if he smiled or frowned the boy wouldn't know that, either! Luke would forever be staring at the expressionless mask and never know his true feelings, always be guessing. It was infuriating!

/Even though I have found him, I'm still cut off!./

His boots striking the floor loudly, he quickened his pace and finally reached his quarters. It pleased him slightly to see crew and even a few droids scurry out of his way; but even that didn't lift the gloomy mood that had settled upon his spirit. A dark thought was playing hide and seek within his brain, but he refused to acknowledge it. It would be foolhardy to even think such a thing. And he had not grown to be the Dark Lord of the Sith by being a fool. Sitting in his special chair, he allowed the helmet to be lifted off his head and then he removed the mask. Going to the special slot on the wall, he ordered a meal and it quickly arrived. Sitting down to eat, he allowed the flavors to explode in his mouth. At least he still had his taste buds and could enjoy the flavor of his meals.

/I wish Luke could dine with me someday…/

Vader glanced around his private quarters as if seeing them for the first time. They were stark and simple, black and white. Even the doctor's office had more personality than his quarters. If Luke were to ever come in here, what would he think or learn?

/Surely he would think that I'm cold-blooded and care for nothing but doing my job…/

Which he exactly how he had lived these past twenty years.

/But now I have Luke!./

Yes, he did. Vader finished his meal and replaced the soiled dishes back into the wall slot. A mechanism would return them to the kitchen where they would be cleaned. Sighing, he leaned his head against the wall. Who was he kidding? He'd never be able to eat with Luke or anyone ever again. His medical condition saw to that. If the Force couldn't heal him, nothing could. He had thought he had accepted it, but apparently he hadn't. The thought of being healed and whole again kept returning on a regular basis for him to moan and fret over. And like a hopeless fool, he did just that. It just stabbed him more painfully this time, that's all.

/I should be used to it by now…/

The buzzer at his door rang and Vader returned to his special chair. It wouldn't do for his crew to see him without the mask. Once the mask and helmet were back in place, Vader opened the door. An Imperial in a neat gray uniform stood there. "Yes, Captain Piett? What is it?"

"I'm sorry to disturb you, My Lord, but I've received word that one of the prisoners tried to kill themselves in their cell."

To be continued…


	4. Detention Level

Bloodmarrow 4

Shock vibrated through the Sith Lord's body as Captain Piett's unexpected words. At the moment he had only two important prisoners and he doubt if either of them would try suicide. No, they just weren't the type. Obi-Wan was a Jedi and it went against Jedi belief to take ones own life. Besides, the man had made it clear he was devoted to Luke. Why else would he live on that horrible planet for all those years, constantly being baked by the never-ending heat and too-dry air? It was a fate he wouldn't wish on his worst enemy. And the Princess, she was too stubborn to try such a thing. There was a fire inside her that he rarely saw these days. She enjoyed insulting the Imperials too much, trying to get a reaction out of his crew. No, it just didn't add up right, which meant something was wrong.

/I hope none of the guards have gotten trigger happy…./

Yes, that was one possibility, but it still didn't feel right. Turning his mask to face Piett, he spoke. "I will see to it. Return to your duties on the bridge, Captain."

Piett saluted and hurried off. "Yes, My Lord!"

Turning on his heel, Vader stalked down the long corridor of _Executor_, an uneasy feeling in his stomach. Something was bubbling in the back of his mind, a thought or idea but he couldn't grasp it firmly. Still, his gut told him that he should _know_ what the problem down on the Detention Deck was. He was forgetting something, something important…

/What am I forgetting?./

Normally he'd know these things by instinct. A good commander always knew the right thing to do in any given situation. Commanders needed to think on their toes and make snap decisions within seconds. If they couldn't, they and their ships didn't last long in the black reaches of space. No, those ships died horrible deaths from the strange phenomenon that made their homes in space or surprise attacks or just simple carelessness. Vader knew he had always been gifted with the ability for command. He had stifled and chapped under the strict rules of the Jedi but had excelled under Palpatine's power, his own command. Out here, he didn't need to ask permission to do each thing needed doing, as the Council had demanded; he could just do it. The freedom was exhilarating. But now something was wrong and he needed to straighten out his thoughts. His mind was filled with concern for Luke and whether or not he should do the bone marrow transplant. He didn't want his son to die on the operating table but he didn't want to loose him, either.

Reaching the lift, he stepped within and pressed the appropriate button. Deciding to review the facts he knew, he started to run them through his head.

/A beast carrying a contagious pathogen attacked Luke…/

The levels flashed past and before he knew it he was on the Detention Deck. Stepping out of the lift, he shoved the mystery from his mind. The cell was just up ahead and he'd learn the facts soon enough anyway. The gray uniformed guards saluted him smartly as they saw him exit the lift and leaped to their feet. "What is the problem?"

"Lord Vader!" The lead Detention Officer said nervously. His eyes stared up at the black breath mask and he gulped nervously, his eyes filled with fear. "I'm afraid one of the prisoners has tried to kill himself. I don't know how, Sir, as there was nothing in the cell he could have used."

"Show me." Vader commanded.

The frightened man hurried to obey and led the Sith Lord down the long pentagon-shaped hall of the cell area. Up ahead, a cluster of stormtroopers milled around, their guns held at the ready. At the sight of Lord Vader's black figure, the troopers moved away to give him access to the cell in question.

"We were going to bring him the evening meal and found him like that…"

Vader could feel the officer's fear through the Force and knew he was spooked by something. Most likely he feared getting in trouble for loosing a prisoner, but the Force seemed to suggest it was more than just that. Placing his hand on the door control, Vader opened the door and looked within. The sight shocked him, a cold feeling gripping his chest and squeezing. Bracing one robotic hand against the doorframe, he struggled to regain control of his breathing.

Obi-Wan lay on the floor, his head facing the metal bunk. He was positioned on one side, his arm trailing in front of him. And directly in front of his body was a huge pool of red blood. The pool spread out across part of the room and reached from the Jedi's head to his bent knees.

/NO! It can't be…. Obi-Wan can't be dead! He just can't be…./

Although he had tried his best to kill the Jedi two decades ago, he apparently still had strong feelings for him. The idea of loosing Obi-Wan now, well, it would be like his mother dying all over again. The Jedi had been both a father and brother to him and more importantly, a friend. Perhaps, through Luke, they could be friends again somehow. And he owed the Jedi for watching over his son all these years, did he not? Without him, Luke would have died. The boy had told him that himself. The intensity of his feelings startled him, as he had lived for so long with only hatred and anger as his constant companions.

Snapping out of his momentary paralysis, Vader hurried forward and approached his former mentor from behind, avoiding the pool of blood. Reaching out with the Force, he was relieved to feel the older man's Force signature, strong and clear. Feeling slightly puzzled as to how that could be with all the blood on the floor, Vader knelt down and carefully examined him. The Jedi's chest continued to rise and fall on a regular basis and he could see the pulse at his neck, so his basic functions appeared to be working.

/Where did all that blood come from?./

Gripping Obi-Wan's shoulder, Vader turned him over slightly and gasped at the twin red trails coming from his nostrils.

/All that leaked from his nose!./

Then he noticed the beads of sweat on Obi-Wan's forehead, the slight tremors racing through his body as if he were shivering….

/The pathogen!./

Cold dread gripped him as he realized that his poor master was now infected with _Metoncedo Belua_ as well. It didn't matter that Obi-Wan hadn't been his master for the past twenty years or that they had fought so viciously so long ago. Obi-Wan had risked his life to save Luke, staying beside the injured boy even though he realized it meant capture by the Empire. And capture meant certain death as Jedi were to be hunted down and executed as enemies of the government. He could have run, he could have sliced the stormtroopers with his lightsaber but he didn't. Instead he stayed by Luke's side and literally held the blood within the dying boy's body, infecting himself with the rare disease. And knowing Obi-Wan and how the Jedi think, even if he had known about the disease he would have done it anyway, for saving another's life was more important than his own. The Jedi were selfless and his old mentor had expressed this clearly once again.

/I must save him somehow…./

Yes, after all Obi-Wan had gone through, he couldn't let him die now!

Lifting his helmeted head to see the gray uniformed officers nervously watching from the door, he glared at them. "Get the medics down here, get them now!"

"Right away, Lord Vader!" One of the officers ran off to call the doctors, his footfalls loud on the metal floor.

"Has anyone been in here?" Vader asked, one black-gloved hand resting on Obi-Wan's shoulder. He could feel the man's violent tremors from the fever and he silently cursed that the Detention Officers hadn't called the doctors right away. But he didn't want this contagion spreading through the crew, either. That would be a nightmare to contain. The image of Obi-Wan pressing his hands to Luke's bleeding shoulder wound was sharp in his mind and the Sith Lord was sure that was how he had gotten the disease. Direct contact. Carefully gripping the Jedi's arm, he hoisted it up and glanced at the palm, seeing the abrasions.

/So it travels blood to blood through any open wound…./

"No, My Lord!" One of the other Detention Officers replied. "We thought it might be some trick to escape. He is a Jedi, so we thought it best if you dealt with him…"

"Good. Make sure no one but the medics enter this room, even after he's taken to the Medical Section. This place needs to be sterilized." Vader informed them in his low, mechanical voice. "And he did not try to kill himself. He is sick."

The officers exchanged nervous glances with each other. One of the things a crew on a ship feared above up was disease, as they were trapped on the ship and couldn't leave easily. It was a deeply ingrained, instinctive feeling. It left unattended to, it could lead to unlawful behavior and even mutiny as panicked people fought for their life.

Sensing their fear, Vader choose to explain the facts to them. "It is transmitted through blood. As long as none of you have touched this pool of blood, you will be fine."

The officers and nearby stormtroopers breathed a collective sigh of relief and the tension faded into the background.

Vader was unconcerned about himself. Incased in the protective armor, breath mask and gloves, he was even more protected from disease than the medical personnel. Of course, he was still careful not to get any of the blood on himself, as that would just cause extra cleaning problems. Finally Dr. Corrigan and the other doctors arrived, a stretcher in tow. After ascertaining the Jedi's basic life signs, they deemed it safe to move him. After placing him onto the stretcher, they carried it out of the cell and towards the lift. With a final glance at the pool of blood, Vader followed the others.

As the lift was filled with the doctors and Obi-Wan, the Sith Lord had to wait for the next car. His concern for Luke increased after what he had seen in the cell and he began to understand Dr. Corrigan's worry. It was not normal for a person to loose that amount of blood and still be alive, breathing normally. It was down right freaky and as a Sith Lord he was not spooked easily. But this disease, it was unlike anything he had ever dealt with before and he found himself unnerved, rattled.

/Perhaps Luke should get that transplant…./

If there was a possibility of stopping this thing, whatever it was, he had to try. Even if it cost Luke his life, the transplant was the boy's only hope.

/Before something else pops up unexpected…./

What would happen to the two next if this went on untreated? What were his son and best friend turning into?

/Do I even want to know?./

Although he could ask the doctor, Vader hadn't found the courage to ask that question yet nor had the doctor volunteered the information on his own. That alone was not a good sign.

/It must be something awful…/

Doctors, he knew, were not usually squeamish with such things. If you were dying, they usually found the courage to tell you. It was all part of their training. Yet Dr. Corrigan had avoided that particular question.

/He knows I will not like the answer…/

Then again, perhaps the answer was right in front of his face all along and he just refused to see it.

Another lift car arrived and Vader got in. Pressing the button for the Medical Deck, he worried what he was going to do now. Even if the transplant saved Luke, how could he save Obi-Wan? Surely their tissue types wouldn't match, would it? That would be too incredible if they did, seeing as they were unrelated. Was it possible that someone on the crew would match? Could he force a crewmember to be a donor for the Jedi? What world was his former master even from? Being raised as infants in the Jedi crèche, the Order had a bad habit of not telling people who their families were or where they were from. And if through some miracle he could discover what planet Obi-Wan had been born on, could he track down a family member? The Temple had been destroyed and the old records were long gone. And so many had died in the War as well….

/It's hopeless!./

A dark, depressing mood settled over the Sith Lord as the lift doors opened and he exited the car. He'd never be able to save both of them. He had tried so hard to save Padme and yet she had died anyway…

/It's that drat curse of being the Chosen One again!./

Yes, the curse gave him nothing but bad luck. No matter how hard he tried, things always seemed to go wrong for him. His mother had died despite his best efforts, Padme died, his body was a hopeless wreck and on top of all that, his son and best friend were now infected with some disease!

/It'll be a miracle if the whole crew doesn't come down with it…./

But no, only the people close to him seemed to suffer. Maybe the crew was safe…

Darth Vader entered Sick Bay with a heavy heart and saw Dr. Corrigan emerge from one of the rooms, a rag in his hands. The doctor wiped his hands on it, a frown on his face. Even from a distance, Vader knew what the prognosis would be, still, he searched for whatever strength still resided in his battered body and walked towards the silver-haired man with bravery he didn't really feel. When he had reached him, he stopped; his long black cloaked brushing against his ankles from the sudden halt. "He has it, doesn't he?"

"I'm afraid so." Dr. Corrigan replied, the slightly damp rag gripped nervously in his hands. "I wish I had better new to give you, but I don't. He's resting right now and is in the same current condition as your son."

Breathing loudly, Vader tried to organize his thoughts. Emotionally, he was a wreck and he knew it was just going to get worst. He needed to pull himself together and be strong. Luke and Obi-Wan needed him to be strong. Plus he had a ship to run, work to do. Unlike others, he just couldn't call in a sick day and have another crewmember fill in. No, he was the Dark Lord of the Sith and he didn't get sick days. Even fresh out of the lava with raw burns still on his face, the mask had been slapped on and he had to go work for Palpatine. It sounded cruel, but that's how Palpatine was. It didn't accept excuses. He expected progress and results.

/And if I get too out of sorts, Palpatine will ask what's going on…./

And that was the last thing he wanted!

"How could Obi-Wan loose so much blood and still be alive?" Vader asked, knowing he needed to know the answer.

"Well, _Metoncedo Belua_ makes its own blood." Dr. Corrigan explained as he shoved the rag into one of the pockets of his white medical coat. "Blood cells are also produced in the bone marrow. So with it producing its own blood, the person's original blood is no longer needed. The nose was just a handy way to get rid of it…"

"When I first saw him laying there…" Vader admitted honestly as he remembered the cold shock that had flowed through him. "I had thought he was dead."

"No, he's not dead." Corrigan reassured as he led Vader back towards the private rooms. "He's in the room next to your son. If you like, you can visit with them. The main difference is that Luke apparently lost most of his original blood when he had been attacked. That didn't happen to Obi-Wan, so he's loosing it in a more dramatic way."

"A more frightening way, you mean." Vader corrected. He thought of how the rumor was even now spreading around the ship. Scuttlebutt was the fastest moving thing in the entire Imperial Fleet. It outpaced even hyper drive sometimes it seemed. Stopping outside Obi-Wan's door, he turned to face the doctor. "I am concerned how this will affect the crew. A frightened crew responds badly in times of crisis and mistakes become more common. The last thing we need is a rumor of a plague on board."

The doctor nodded. "Yes, that is a concern."

"Did you finish the tests to see if I can be a donor?" Vader asked. Once the question was out, he held his breath. All his plans for Luke rested on this one idea. If he didn't match…

"Yes, your HLA matches your son's." The doctor replied as he stared at Vader's expressionless black mask. "Do you want to proceed with the transplant?"

"After what I just saw, I think we better." Vader solemnly returned the doctor's gaze. "I don't like the idea of this unnatural _thing_ changing my son. The sooner it's stopped, the better. Just allow me to tell him first. It's only right that he should know."

"Very well. I'll go prepare the equipment we'll need and get the staff ready." Dr. Corrigan said and then hurried off.

Darth Vader watched him go and then turned to face the door. Not only was he now facing a difficult conversation with Luke, but one with Obi-Wan as well. How did you tell a person their DNA was being changed into something else? How could he possibly tell Luke he was going to undergo a dangerous and painful procedure? He had never faced anything like this before and he felt as if he were on unstable ground. Worst, he had no idea how his son would react to such news. Perhaps Obi-Wan would have some suggestions, as he no doubt knew the boy better. Sighing, Vader opened the door and went in.

The Jedi was lying in bed with a blanket up to his chin. As soon as Vader walked in, Obi-Wan's blue eyes snapped open and he watched the other warily. "What do you want, Anakin?"

Vader paused next to the bed and breathed loudly. He was unsure why Obi-Wan was calling him Anakin still. Was it just habit or was the older man still hopeful that he'd change? Had he somehow clung to that hope all these years? "I … I have something to tell you."

Obi-Wan stared up at the Sith Lord and sighed, slightly annoyed. Even sick, he could feel the other's uncertainty through the Force. "Anakin, don't tell me you're _still_ nervous! You've been a Sith for how many years? I would have thought by now you would have outgrown it."

"Do you remember what happened?" Vader finally asked, deciding to ignore the Jedi's remarks for the moment.

"Yes, I remember!" Obi-Wan growled as he crossed his arms over his chest. "Your goons locked me in a cell!"

"And do you remember what happened after that?" Vader asked, his breath loud in the small room.

"I went to sleep out of boredom, that and a headache." Obi-Wan admitted. His eyes shifted around the small room, his Jedi training taking in everything. Nor did he miss Luke's Force signature very close by, perhaps the next room over. "Well, I'm glad to see you've come to your senses and given me a proper room. That metal bunk was very annoying and almost impossible to sleep on. The floor was much softer in comparison. Do I owe this change in surroundings to the fact that I saved your son's life?"

"Partly…" Vader paused, uncertain how he should continue. It was obvious Obi-Wan didn't remember bleeding all over the floor. "Master…"

"I'm not your master anymore, as you very well know." Obi-Wan turned his head and looked away from his former apprentice. "I haven't been your master since …."

"I'm sorry…." Vader finally stated, his nerves jumping uneasily. It felt very odd to be apologizing to Obi-Wan after so many years for things he couldn't change.

Surprise crossed the Jedi's face and he turned to stare up at the black breath mask. "And what has you in such a fine mood that you're apologizing _now_, after all this time? What dirty deed do you want me to do this time?"

"I … I don't know how to say this…" Vader began and then paused again. How did doctors _do_ it, anyway? Why couldn't he detach his feelings like he had been before? Why couldn't he find that cold place in his soul where he had dwelled these past twenty years? It would be so easy then! He could just utter the words and not care. But he couldn't. The sudden appearance of his son had awoken feelings in him he had long though dead. They were alive and well, glowing with warmth. There was no way he could just utter it out and not care for the other's reaction. But how do you tell someone a thing like this? After all he and Obi-Wan had been through, the last thing he wanted to do was to hurt the man more. He had done that enough hadn't he? Surely exile on Tatooine was enough punishment.

"Say what? Anakin, you're blubbering!" Obi-Wan sighed and threw off the blanket. He felt to hot now, the room muggy all of a sudden. The slightly cooler air of the room brushed against him and he sighed, feeling better. He could feel Anakin's turbulent emotions with ease. For whatever reason, neither of them had ever terminated the training bond they shared and the other's emotions flowed down that link like a swirling tempest. It was painfully obvious Anakin was upset about something. "And if you're worried about Luke, I can feel he's just in the next room. He seems to be just fine, so I guess I made the right decision. I hope now _you'll_ make the proper decision and not ruin his life as you did yours."

"If you're referring to Palpatine, you're right." Vader lowered his head slightly in agreement. "He'd kill Luke now, but not for the reasons you think."

"Well, what other reasons are there?" Obi-Wan asked, aspirated about all the beating around the bush.

"Because of the disease he caught from that thing you killed…" Vader finally admitted. It felt like a slight weight had lifted off his shoulders with the words. "And I'm afraid you caught it, too."

"Disease? What disease?" Obi-Wan demanded to know. "I'll have you know, Anakin, I feel just fine!"

Vader blinked his eyes under the mask, surprised. "You do?"

"Yes, I do!" Obi-Wan insisted as he crawled out of bed and stood up, stretching. "Why, I haven't felt this good for years! My arthritis seems to have cleared up, too. Isn't that something? Who ever knew sleeping on a hard floor could do that? Hmmm, now where are my boots?"

Vader watched his former master dig under the bed for his boots and then go check in the nearby closet. With a yell of victory, Obi-Wan returned to the bed and pulled on the long brown footwear. Puzzlement floated through his mind. He didn't understand this disease. The Jedi had lost all his original blood and yet he felt fine, with prior diseases clearing up magically? That didn't make any sense whatsoever. He watched the other stand up and gaze at his mask. If he didn't know any better, he'd swear that Obi-Wan looked _younger_. His hair was still the same snowy white, bleached of all color from Tatooine's harsh desert light, but was his face less wrinkled than when they had first met?

/I must be imagining things…./

Yes, his memory was goofed up, that's all. He hadn't seen the man in twenty years and after the trying day he's been through, he couldn't be expect to remember everything with crystal recall.

"Needless of how you feel, the doctor says you are infected with _Metoncedo Belua_. It is changing your DNA as we speak…"

Obi-Wan rolled his eyes. "Anakin, that's impossible! You can't change a person's DNA!"

"I trust Dr. Corrigan. He's been my private physician for many years." Vader replied matter-of-factly. And he did trust the doctor. Yet, he had to admit Obi-Wan didn't _look_ sick. He was standing on his own two feet and looked rather annoyed: very Obi-Wan. There were no tremors of the muscles, no sweat on the brow, no pallor of the skin, no nothing. If he were to judge Obi-Wan's heath just by looks, he'd say he was healthy.

/But there was all that blood on the floor…../

Yes, he mustn't forget about that!

Obi-Wan raised an eyebrow. "So, what are you going to do with me?"

"You must stay here in this room. You're in quarantine due to the disease." Vader stated, sure that no matter how healthy the man looked, he shouldn't be given free range of the ship. This whole thing was just too weird. "But you may visit with Luke if you wish. I'm sure he'd be glad to see you. We need to tell him about the disease and how he needs to get a transplant…."

"Transplant!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, outraged. "What in the Force are you talking about? He doesn't need a transplant!"

"Yes, he does!" Vader replied, his voice coming out louder than he had wanted it to. Old habits died hard and one of his old habits was disagreeing with Obi-Wan. "This disease is changing his DNA! I need to change it back and the only way to do that is with a bone marrow transplant."

"That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard!" The Jedi exclaimed.

"I'll try to find a donor for you as well."

Obi-Wan's mouth dropped open. "What? I don't _want_ a donor or a transplant! I feel fine for the first time in who knows how many years and you want to ruin it for me!"

"That's not true!" Vader huffed. "I do not want to argue with you, Obi-Wan. Why can't you cooperate? Come next door and visit Luke with me. Tell him I'm his father, if nothing else. I had hoped you'd help me tell him of the upcoming ordeal he must face, the transplant. I've never done such a thing before…"

"So," Obi-Wan said as he crossed his arms over his chest, a crooked smile on his face. "You want help telling Luke you're his father, huh? Well, Anakin, do you want help telling Princess Leia as well? Because she's your daughter!"

To be continued….


	5. The Bad News

Bloodmarrow 5

"My … daughter?" Vader asked, stunned. He was receiving too many shocks within the same day and now his mind went blank. Behind the mask his mouth gaped open and he just stared at the Jedi.

"Yes, your daughter!" Obi-Wan repeated. "It's what happens when you have physical relationships with a woman, as you very well know!"

/Princess Leia is my daughter…./

He tried to wrap his mind around the new idea, that the trouble-making Rebel that he'd been chasing after for years was his own offspring and found it shocking. True, she possessed his stubbornness and Padme's love for politics but he had never even imagined she was his daughter!

/How could this be? I've been searching for my child and she was there before my eyes…./

Yes, he had her locked down in the Detention Deck and would have tortured her for the secrets locked within her mind. If he wouldn't have been so busy with Luke and this pathogen…

/I would have interrogated her already…./

And that would have been unforgivable. If he had harmed even a single hair on her head, he'd never be able to forgive himself. And more importantly, _she'd_ never forgive him, either. She'd hate his guts the rest of her life and would never want any sort of relationship that didn't involve a blaster and him dying in agony of a fatal belly wound. Yes, Leia was that kind of person; of that he had no doubt. She may have gotten her looks from his dear wife, but her personality was closer to his own. He had seen the anger burning in her deep brown eyes when he had first caught her on the ship, the defiance. She obviously had no more idea of their parentage than he did. To her, he was a vile monster that served a crazed despot, one who would stop at nothing to gain power. Lifting his downcast eyes back to Obi-Wan, he simply stated the truth. "She hates me…."

"That's what you get for going to the Dark Side, Anakin." Obi-Wan replied as he headed towards the door. "Shall we go see Luke?"

Vader nodded his helmeted head. With the disease progressing and the horror of Obi-Wan lying in a pool of blood fresh in his mind, he knew he had to put Leia off for now. Although uncomfortable, the cell was safe enough. Without his prior permission, no one would dare touch her, as she truly was his prisoner. Luke had to come first. Besides, the confrontation with her would be uncomfortable to say the least. She'd deny it with as much vigor as she could and may result to her usual insults, hoping to hurt his feelings. With Luke, though, he had a chance of a true father-son relationship. The boy was pure and uncontaminated by the strong hatred that his sister possessed, her prejudice. He would be more easily swayed to his side much easier once Obi-Wan confirmed that he truly was his father. And whether he wanted to admit or not, he couldn't trust Leia any more than she trusted him. Her alliance was to the Rebellion. He would try to start a real relationship with her; she'd try to take advantage of it somehow. No, he couldn't risk that, couldn't risk letting her out of the cell just because she was his daughter. He would tell her at some time in the future, but not now. "Yes, let's go see my son. I told him that I'm his father, but I think he'd like to hear it from you as well…"

Darth Vader opened the door and led the other into Luke's room. The sandy-haired boy was sleeping, his hair mussed and messy from rolling about. One arm was stretched across the bed, the hand dangling off the edge with the fingers partly curled. Moving closer to the bed, Vader peered down at him with concern. His breathing eased slightly when he saw not a drop of sweat marred Luke's forehead, the fever apparently over. But was that good or bad?

/Perhaps I should be more worried, as the foreign organism now has a stronger hold on him…./

Yes, that made sense. The fever could have been a symptom of the war waging in his body, of his immune system trying to kick out the invader.

"Look at him, Anakin! The boy is a picture of health!" Obi-Wan remarked from where he stood on the other side of Luke's bed. "Are you sure you're not jumping at shadows again? Because I tell you I feel fine…"

Reaching out, Vader gripped the thin blanket that covered the sleeping boy and pulled it back from his upper body. Once Obi-Wan saw the completely healed bites he'd understand and would support him then. Soon Luke's bare shoulders and chest was revealed, the fine white scars visible against his slightly darker skin. But it wasn't just the scars by themselves anymore and a loud gasp escaped from the Sith Lord's mouth as he tried to take in what he was seeing.

"What in the Force is that?" Obi-Wan asked as he too leaned over the bed for a closer look.

Stiff white hairs grew out of the long, jagged scars, each hair about an inch long. They were sparse and not all that noticeable, still, they were there just the same.

/No! This can't be happening!./

Vader's eyes flew down to the scars that ran across Luke's upper arms and saw the white hairs there as well. A pit of fear formed in his stomach at the unnatural sight before him. This was too much!

/Not my son! Anything but that!./

He would rather face the danger himself. He was a warrior at heart, trained in combat with both lightsaber and his powers. He could take on an entire army without batting an eye and had done just that in the past. But Luke, Luke was innocent! He deserved none of this and wouldn't understand it. And how was he expected to fight a disease? It wasn't something he could slice or dice or even Force-choke…

Lifting his helmeted head from the awful sight, he stared at Obi-Wan. "Now do you see what I mean?"

"Well," Obi-Wan began, his voice unsure. "It's just a few hairs…."

"But they're _white_ hairs!" Vader insisted, his voice booming in the quite of the room.

"So?" Obi-Wan sighed and eyed his former apprentice with narrowed eyes. "Must I remind you it's perfectly _normal_ to grow hair on one's body? Have you been without real limbs for so long that you've forgotten how much hair grows there? I know I have quite a lot on my legs…"

Vader knew if he didn't act quickly, he'd be subjected to looking at the older man's hairy legs, something he wished to avoid at all costs. So he did what he was best at: thinking quickly. "Let's see your palms."

"My palms?" Puzzled, Obi-Wan lifted his hands up and turned them over. A loud gasp escaped his mouth and his blue eyes widened in surprise. The same white hairs were growing out of his palms where he had scraped himself.

"You cannot tell me that that's normal." Vader stated. "Hair does not grow on the palms."

"I … I just don't understand this…" Obi-Wan cautiously picked at one of the hairs, grabbing it with the fingers of his other hand. Pulling on it, he winched in pain. It was lodged in firmly beneath the skin and wouldn't come out unless he pulled much harder. "I feel fine…"

"Perhaps this disease wants you to be at your best when it starts transforming you." Vader guessed. "It has been working inside you and the physical changes are only now starting to appear. I didn't want to upset you earlier, but I found you lying in a pool of blood down in the cell. That's why you were moved up here. The Detention Deck officers had thought you had tried to kill yourself."

Stumbling backward, Obi-Wan's knees gave out and he sunk down to the floor with his knees pressed to his chest. A few days ago sitting like this would have been impossible. Although he had tried to keep himself in shape during his exile, he had done a lot of sitting and thinking; his mind trapped in the past. His bones and body had grown old and things he had done without thought in his youth had grown much harder if not impossible. His days of leaping out windows and hanging onto flying droids were long gone, obviously, but so were much simpler things like sitting with his knees tucked to his chest. Yet he were doing that right now…

Holding one of his palms out, Obi-Wan stared at it, feeling as if it weren't his hand but some foreign thing attached to his wrist. It was without doubt one of the most horrible experiences in his life and certainly the scariest. Anakin had tried to tell him earlier, but he hadn't wanted to listen. He felt good again and he liked feeling good. It wasn't pleasant to be old with the aches and pains, the difficulties. Although the Jedi wasn't vain, one couldn't really blame him for being pleased with his newfound youth free of the arthritis that had been plaguing him recently. It was odd, really, how an innocent little thing like a few hairs could be so dreadful. They looked so harmless growing there on his palm, but he knew they were just the tip of the iceberg.

Vader gazed at him in concern, feeling his own shock and dread being mirrored by Obi-Wan's feelings through the bond. He wished he had words of comfort to offer, but he didn't, not really. He would be lucky if he could save Luke. The transfusion may not even work. And if it didn't…

/I don't want to think about that…/

No, he didn't. The thought was too horrible to contemplate. His son would either die from the medical procedure or change into something unknown. And by the looks of those hairs it might not even be human…

/I can't allow that to happen!./

No, he couldn't. He'd fight this thing all the way no matter what. Too much time was passing and the disease was progressing rapidly. He needed to stop it _now_, before it grew too late and Luke was lost to him forever. Deciding it was best to go see the doctor now, he turned to head for the door but a sound stopped him.

"Father?" Luke asked sleepily as he opened his blue eyes, rubbing at them with his hands. "Is that you? I thought I heard something…"

"Yes, Luke. I am here." Vader quickly turned to face the boy again, his heart aching at the sight of him, knowing what he was about to undergo.

/What if he hates me for putting him through such torture?./

"As am I." Obi-Wan added as he picked himself off the floor and stood by Luke's bedside. Even as scared as he was about the pathogen spreading through his body, he shoved it to the back of his mind and smiled at Luke.

Luke sprung up in bed at the sound of the Jedi's voice and threw his arms around Obi-Wan's neck, almost knocking the older man over with his enthusiasm. "Ben! Am I glad to see you! I thought he had you locked up in some awful dungeon!"

"Of course not." The Jedi responded as he gently pulled Luke off himself, feeling embarrassed and slightly flustered. He was used to being by himself, that and the Jedi Code didn't exactly encourage physical affection. Warriors didn't go around hugging people. Well, not _normal_ ones and his eyes flew to the dark hulking figure of the Sith Lord. His cheeks were flushed and he was almost positive that Anakin was snickering at his discomfort under that mask! Keeping his eyes glued to Vader, he patted Luke on his uninjured shoulder. "Anakin and I are old friends…"

"So he really _is_ my father?" Luke asked, his eyes flickering from one to the other.

"Yes, he is." Obi-Wan confirmed, his voice serious. "Now I know I told you he was dead, but I was just referring to the fact he had turned to the Dark Side. Yet when that creature had attacked you, the Empire was your best chance for survival. I couldn't let you die just because I disagree with Empire policy. That just wouldn't be right. So here we are."

Luke gazed up at Darth Vader, uncertain what he should say. What did you say to a stranger that was your father, especially when that stranger was so famous, rich and powerful? He had no idea and he desperately tried to think of something to break the ice. He had wanted his father his whole life and now that he knew that Vader really was his father, he wanted to get to know him. If only he wasn't so bad at these sorts of things. Not that he normally had trouble talking to people. He talked to them just fine. It's just that it was _Darth Vader_! And if he said the wrong thing… what if he offended him?

"How are you feeling, Luke?" Vader asked, sensing through the Force that the boy didn't know how to start a conversation. Luke's mind was more or less an open book to him. The boy had no mental shields at all and all his thoughts floated up at the top, there to read if he desired. It was apparent he had no knowledge of the Force, no training.

"Oh, I feel just fine!" Luke replied happily as he sat on the bed crossed-legged. He moved his injured arm around, twisting it high overhead as he stretched his shoulder muscle. "Even my injured arm is back to normal! Isn't that great? So, can I be released from here soon? I want to go see the ship! This is a Star Destroyer, right? Boy, I can't believe I'm really on one! If I ever see Biggs and tell him, he won't believe me!"

Vader sighed. His son was bursting with energy, happy and excited and he felt like a heel to ruin his happiness. Luke was never up in space before and who was he to forbid him the opportunity to gaze out at the stars? The knowledge that he may die on the operating table weighed heavy on his heart and he very much wanted to spend a few last hours with him, just in case. It would give them the chance to get to know each other in case the worst did happen. Then he could always think back on those moments and know that Luke died happy. It wouldn't be perfect, but it would be close. The disease couldn't spread unless one exchanged blood or bodily fluids, so there was no risk of anyone else getting infected. It would be safe to take Luke around the ship and see some of the sights since it meant so much to him. "I could take you on a brief tour if you'd like, Luke, but then you must come back here."

Luke's eyes grew as wide as saucers. "Really? You'd do that just for me?"

"You are my son." Vader replied, as if that explained everything. "I'd do anything for you."

Pure excitement bubbled through Luke's veins and he leaped out of bed. "Boy, am I ever lucky! Can we go see the fighter ships, too?"

"Of course." Darth Vader nodded his masked face, his heart skipping a beat when Luke had said he were lucky.

/He is so happy. How can I possibly ruin his happiness by telling him the truth? It would crush him…/

Yes, it would. He could imagine Luke's face falling with the awful news, fear growing in his eyes. He watched silently as the young man scrambled around the tiny room, finding his boots and a new shirt from the closet. Quickly he pulled them on and then ran his hand through his hair in a lame effort to comb his thick sandy locks. Apparently Luke decided he was ready as he eagerly hurried to the door and opened it, a look of exhilaration on his face. He bounced there on his toes, his eagerness barely bound by restraint. His son was so young and full of life.

/I can't tell him…./

"Come on! Let's go!" Luke called eagerly, not understanding why the other two were just standing around. Time was slipping through and he wanted to be _out there_, seeing stuff! Gee, he had never thought that Vader of all people was an old fogy who stood around procrastinating! Man, would Owen ever yell at _him_! Turning in the doorway, Luke waved his arms about. "What are you waiting for? A Dewback is faster than you are!"

"Welcome to fatherhood." Obi-Wan remarked dryly.

Vader sighed but started to follow his impatient son. After telling the doctor they were stepping out for a brief moment, he started to show Luke the ship. Obi-Wan begged off the tour and returned to his room to brood about the white hairs growing from his palms. The first place they visited was one of the launch bays where the Tie-fighters were kept.

"Boy, are these ever cool!" Luke exclaimed as he circled one of the small fighter craft, his eyes glistening with uncontrolled mirth. "I used to zoom through Beggar's Canyon back home in my T-16, taking the turns as fast as I could. I could outrace anyone! Boy, what I would give if I could fly one of these babies…"

"Believe it or not, Luke, but I used to race trough there as well when I was much younger…" Vader admitted, shocked that his son would fly through the old podracing course in a skyhopper. What were the odds of that?

"You did?" Luke peeled his eyes off the fighter ship to gaze up at his father's black mask. "Really?"

"Yes. It used to be part of the old podracing course. I was a podracer…" Vader explained as he laid a hand on the boy's shoulder. "I was the only human who could podrace."

"Yeah, I know its part of the old coarse." Luke admitted, placing his own hand on top of Vader's. "I love flying through there, pretending I was in a fighter ship like these here. It sounds like we have a lot in common…"

"We do. And you have the Force as well. Someday either I or Obi-Wan will train you…." A lump formed in Vader's throat at those words and he grew silent. What if that never came to pass? What if Luke died? The boy deserved to be trained, to pass on the knowledge of the Force, to receive his birthright. The idea that this was his last hour with him was heart wrenching and he struggled to swallow the lump, to get his emotions under control. He hadn't felt this bad since back when Padme was still alive and everyone was pulling him in different directions.

Growing more serious and a bit braver, Luke peered up at the black breath mask and stepped closer to his new father. Curiosity sparkled in his blue eyes and he wondered about the man that he really couldn't see. "May I ask why you wear that mask? Do you do it to frighten the crew, so they don't know who you are?"

"Many years ago I was injured. I traveled to a planet called Mustafar. It's a turbulent world of lava and volcanoes. The lava burned me badly and now I must wear this suit and mask so I can live. Without it, I would die." Darth Vader explained, telling Luke the facts but not the entire story. The boy didn't need to know everything. The knowledge that he and Obi-Wan had fought so furiously would just upset him, possibly alienate him.

Luke's face fell. "I'm sorry, Father. I had no idea you were so sick. Can't your doctors do anything for you? They sure patched me up. My shoulder doesn't even twinge or anything."

"No, Luke. There is nothing anyone can do for me. I've visited all the surgeons in the galaxy and it's hopeless." Vader admitted. Even if he had stayed a Jedi, he doubted if even the Jedi Healers could have patched him up. His injuries were just too severe. Even the limited Force had limits when it came to the body.

/Unless…/

No! Vader shoved the idea out of his mind. It was unthinkable! He was trying to _cure_ Luke and Obi-Wan, not infect himself. Even if it had healed all of the boy's injuries…

"Luke, come with me." Vader strolled through the hangar and headed for one of the huge windows that looked out at the steady glowing stars. He loved gazing out at them and never grew tired of it. Staring at them was like looking at eternity. He felt weightless; insignificant and his problems seemed to recede. At other times they helped clear his mind so he could think better. That and they were simply beautiful. "There is something I must tell you."

"What?" Luke moved up to the window and gasped in awe. The sensation that he would just float up and out the huge window into space was intense. The glass that separated him from the vacuum of space was so clear that he swore it wasn't there and he cautiously, fearfully, reached towards it with a shaking hand, sure he wouldn't meet any resistance at all. But before he could reach it, the steel-like grip of his father's hand stopped him.

"It is a force-field, Luke." Vader explained.

"I feel so funny, like I'm going to just float out there…" Luke whispered in awe. This was the closest he ever had to a religious experience and he was enjoying it. "It's like looking into forever…"

"I spend hours staring out at the stars up on the bridge." Vader admitted, pleased that Luke felt the same way about them that he did. To too many people, stars were just stars. They grew tired of the sight and sought out more entertaining pastimes. But Vader knew he'd never grow bored of them.

/He truly is my son!./

Pleasant warmth grew through him as he felt a fledgling Force link form between the two as they stood side by side looking out at the stars. They had so much in common: the love of speed, looking at the stars, mechanical things like skyhoppers and fighter craft, the desire to be Jedi, a hatred of Tatooine, a desire to be with one's family… And who knew what other similarities they'd discover if they'd have more time together?

"I used to watch them come out every night on the farm…" Luke said, his mood growing sad as he suddenly remembered that the farm wasn't there anymore. Still, he couldn't really blame his father for what others did. Rationally, he knew he couldn't watch every stormtrooper every minute of every day. They no doubt did lots of things on their own. Turning slightly so he could see his father, he spoke. "I … I never thanked you for saving my life. You didn't have to, but you did. So thanks."

"There is no need to thank me, Son." Vader reached out and pulled Luke close, hugging the boy. Unlike Obi-Wan, he wasn't ashamed to be seen holding someone. Let the crew think what they wanted. He didn't care. He had his son and that's what was important. "I'm just glad I found you. It's made my most wildish wish come true."

"It's my biggest wish as well." Luke mumbled from against Vader's chest, his voice muffled.

"Someday, Luke, I will take you flying out there among the endless stars." The Sith Lord promised, hoping it will be true and not another pipe dream. The way things were going, it very well might be a dream.

Luke turned his head upward slightly so he could see his father's black mask. "Really? You'd trust me to fly one of those?"

"Yes, but not now." Vader cautioned as his hand rested on Luke's back. "You are still recovering from that animal bite and I don't want to wear you out."

"Ah! I feel like I could take on the whole Empire by myself!" Luke exclaimed loudly, excitement in his voice as he eyed one of the sleek fighter crafts. He longed to crawl into the cockpit and to take it out, run it trough its paces. It would be so much better than his old T-16! It would be totally wizard!

Vader's thoughts drifted to Leia sitting in her cell and he thought the two of them combined together, they just might be enough to actually _beat_ the Empire. "I have no doubt of that."

For some time they stood side by side, looking out at the stars and enjoying each other's company.

"Luke," Vader's mechanical voice said within the huge room, his eyes still locked on the stars. "There is something I must tell you and I worry it'll upset you…"

"What?" Luke asked, keeping his face towards the force field. He knew that he would have to go back to Sick Bay soon and he wanted to memorize this unique floating feeling that was nestled in the pit of his stomach. It was so incredible to just stand here and gaze out at the endless night. He hoped that if his memory was good enough, he could close his eyes in bed and bring the stars up in his mind, feel this freedom again. Otherwise he feared he'd grow restless and out of his mind just lying there.

"That animal that bit you. It wasn't healthy." Vader stated and then held his breath.

"But I feel OK…" Luke replied, his brow wrinkling up in confusion. "Is that why you're keeping me in Sick Bay? You're worried I'm going to catch something? Well, my bite doesn't seem swollen or anything."

"There are other things to worry about besides infection with bites, Luke." Vader explained uneasily. His nervousness was growing and he was worried that perhaps this was the wrong location to tell Luke. What if he went nuts? What if he jumped into a Tie-fighter and escaped the ship? Without knowing how to fly it properly, he could crash! "I'm afraid that thing was carrying a rare disease. And well, you have it now."

/Please, please, please don't freak out!./

"I do?" Luke asked, his voice sounding surprised. "Am I going to die, because I don't feel sick."

"No, Luke. It's not fatal, not in the way you mean." Vader paused and took a big breath. This was harder than he had even imagined and he was thankful that so far the boy was taking it rather calmly.

/Perhaps he does not believe me, like Obi-Wan had not believed at first…/

Yes, that made sense. Because Luke felt fine it was hard for him to believe that he really was sick. People often thought that if they were sick, they should feel bad. That's just how it worked.

"Then what _do_ you mean?" Luke asked sounding even more confused. He continued to stare out at the stars through the invisible force field. He was glad that his father had showed him this place. Somehow he just couldn't find the energy to get worked up over this disease thing, as he really didn't think he was sick. It was like Aunt Beru, fussing over the slightest little boo-boo he got, like a scraped knee or a cut finger. She had blown it all out of proportion; acting like he was dying and Owen had been forced to yell at her to stop. Luke figured, now that Vader was a first-time parent, he was over-reacting to the bites.

"This disease, it changes your DNA…" Vader finally admitted, almost shaking in his boots.

"My what?" Luke asked, turning to face Vader. "Look, can't you use _normal_ words? I grew up on a farm remember? I didn't go to one of your fancy academies."

Vader gasped, one hand clutching at his chest.

There was very thin, white streak going through Luke's sandy hair.

To be continued…


	6. The Transplant

Bloodmarrow 6

"You're … you're hair!" Vader exclaimed as he pointed a black-gloved finger at his son's hair, his arm trembling. This was just too much, the stress and tension building too high. If he didn't put a stop to this, he'd end up in Sick Bay himself with a nervous breakdown. And that he couldn't afford. Someone had to make the decisions for Luke; the medical decisions. Although of legal age, he was still a child and used to obeying his Uncle. His world had been simple; living a harsh life in an even harsher environment and worrying about the harvests. He'd never be able to deal with the Empire or the doctors; their words befuddling. Nor did he have any legal standing on the Star Destroyer, as he wasn't a crewmember. And he yet had to find a cure for Obi-Wan.

Self-consciously, Luke ran a hand through his thick shaggy hair. "What's wrong with my hair?"

"There's a white streak through it!" Vader cried as he reached out and securely grabbed Luke by his wrist. "You're changing already! We must return to Sick Bay immediately!"

Luke's eyes widened, shock and confusion showing clearly in the blue orbs. "What are you talking about? I don't have white in my hair…"

Ignoring the boy's protests, Vader started to haul him out of the huge bay. The rare disease was progressing more quickly than he had expected and the time for stalling was gone. Luke would have to get the transplant now. There was no other choice. If he didn't, he risked loosing his son forever.

/And that is unacceptable. I will not loose Luke now that I have found him…/

Digging his boot heels into the highly polished floor, Luke attempted to stop himself from being dragged out of the bay filled with Tie-fighters. His mind was a mass of confusion; various thoughts swirling around like a maelstrom. His father's hand was like a tight vice around his wrist and he wondered how anyone could have such a firm grip. It didn't even feel like a human grip. It was too strong. Boots sliding uselessly on the gleaming white floor, Luke lost his balance and fell, only his father's grip saving him from landing flat on his face. His knees hit the floor and he quickly stuck his other hand out to prevent smashing his chin and nose. Vader's feet paused and the Sith Lord waited for Luke to get to his feet again, his hold never lessening.

His face a short distance from the floor, Luke stared at his reflection, mesmerized. The floor acted like a mirror and he could see himself clearly, his thick locks hanging downward around his face due to his kneeling position. Moving in slow motion, he moved one hand to his hair. He could see the white streak that started at his brow and moved forward through his bangs. It was no thicker than his baby finger but it still was there. Disbelief shone in his eyes and he cautiously poked at the white hair, convinced it was a trick of the light. Gripping the affected area between his thumb and forefinger, he moved it this way and that, sure that his normal sandy coloring would return if he just held the strands at the right angle. When the clump of hair remained white, Luke began to grow agitated. "No! No, this can't be! I'm too young to have white hair! I just turned twenty!"

"Luke…" Vader said softly, his heart going out to the poor boy. He gently released Luke's wrist and watched it drop listlessly to the floor. Through their fledging bond he could feel his son's anguish and shock, his growing horror. The sight of his child kneeling on the floor in such a state was more than he could stand. It was enough to break his already broken heart.

/If only I could suffer in his place…/

He would do it in a heartbeat. He had already lived his life and besides, he was used to pain. His body had never properly healed from Mustafar and he lived with pain every day of his life. It was pushed to the back of his mind, managed with Jedi techniques he had learned in his youth but it was still there. And what was a bit of white in the hair really? He didn't even have hair anymore, just his badly burned scalp. He had been lucky his eyes, nose and lips hadn't been burned off as well. And then there was that crack in his skull as well, another souvenir of his foolish youth that dreadful day. Still, he would pile more pain on his battered body if it would spare Luke grief now.

"NO!" Luke wailed from where he knelt on the floor. Realization that something lurked inside his body was fully understood now and he frantically yanked at the clump of white hair, as if by pulling it out he could stop the disease. He winched in pain and tears appeared in his eyes.

"Luke, stop!" Vader ordered as he felt the boy's wild panic. This is what he had feared and now he would have to stop him before he did any real damage. Reaching out, he gripped Luke's hands with his own and forced him to let his hair go. Kneeling, he pulled his son to him and embraced him. "It'll be all right, Son, but pulling your hair out is not the answer."

Pressing his face against his father's shoulder, Luke trembled in fear. The idea that some foreign thing was inside his body was frightening, even more frightening than when that Tuskan Raider had suddenly appeared and swung the gaderffi stick at him. That had happened quickly and he had no time to be scared, not really. But this was different. It was horrible! He still didn't know what DNA was, but he now understood all too well what Vader had meant by the word 'change'. "What do you mean it's going to be all right? I'm turning into an old man or something! Look at my hair!"

"The doctors will fix it." Vader promised and hoped it was true. At least Luke didn't grasp the full truth and the Sith Lord doubted if it was a simple matter of fast aging. No, this was something far worse. "Dr. Corrigan already is preparing for the procedure. When it is over, hopefully you'll be back to yourself."

"Hopefully?" Luke's voice quivered and he pulled back slightly from his father's grasp so he could look at his mask. The black breath mask was all angles and shiny white reflections. It showed nothing of the man's true feelings and more importantly, it hid his eyes. There was no way to tell what the tall black-clad figure was truly feeling, if he felt anything at all. He remembered the hushed whispers about the Empire back in Anchorhead when he occasionally went to town for parts. None of the talk had been good. There had been rumors of entire cities blasted to nothingness from space, of medical experiments, of entire races turned to slaves. He hadn't wanted to believe any of it, as his only hope to get off Tatooine was going to the Imperial Academy. They provided free transport and an education to those who passed their tests; something that Luke couldn't afford to pass up. He didn't want to work the farm his whole life; he just wasn't suited to it. But if those rumors were true, how could he tell if his father was telling him the truth? "What kind of answer is that? How do I know you didn't do this to me, you and your Empire?"

Pain shot through Vader's soul at those harsh words.

/He is upset. He does not mean it…./

No, the boy didn't have a harsh bone in his body. That was evident. The Lars had been decent people, something lacking these days of greed and corruption. They had raised him to be a wholesome young man and the Sith Lord was thankful for that. Yet it was clear the boy had overheard some Alliance propaganda. The Rebels were everywhere scurrying like rats and building distrust in the hearts of good citizens. Once the seeds of doubt were sowed, they slowly did their work on the weak-minded or those suspicious by nature. The rumormongers were everywhere these days, apparently even out here in the sticks. Sometimes it was just as simple as a man sitting in a local café speaking his mind over a hot cup of caf. From there it spread until everyone had heard the news. Instead of growing angry, Vader's heart went out to his innocent son who believed everything he heard. "I would never harm you, Luke. Look within yourself and you'll know this to be true."

Luke blinked his eyes. "Look within myself?"

"Yes, Luke. You have the Force and you can tell if people are lying to you. If you look within yourself, you'll even be able to feel my feelings." Vader instructed gently, his arms still around his son as they knelt there on the mirror-like floor of the Tie-fighter bay. He didn't care what others thought if they were to walk in on them in this strange situation. It would no doubt start some very odd rumors indeed and the crew always looked eagerly for new scuttlebutt. Vader and the other high-ranking officers were prime targets, as they were the closest to celebrities that the Empire had. Even the Emperor himself was fair game. The only tricky thing with Vader rumors was you didn't live long if you were caught.

Luke had calmed down somewhat by now, his initial panic fading. His father's strong arms felt nice around him, although they weren't as soft as Aunt Beru's had been. This looking inside oneself seemed like a Jedi lesson and he very much wanted to try it, but he was unsure what the words meant. How could he look inside himself? If he closed his eyes, there was just a reddish blackness or inky blackness, depending on the amount of light in the room at the time. "I'm not sure what you mean…."

"You'll learn with time, Luke." Vader assured him as the Sith Lord slowly rose to his feet. He could sense the boy was calm now, more or less. "When I first arrived at the Jedi Temple, I didn't know anything, either. I had been using the Force instinctively, but had to learn to use it on purpose. Perhaps you've been using it, too, when you drove your T-16 through the canyons."

"Really?" Luke asked. He allowed Vader to pull him to his feet, amazed at how strong the man's arms were. His scalp pinched and burned slightly where he had yanked at his hair and he rubbed it gently now, a slightly embarrassed expression on his face. He felt so stupid! He had reacted like a five-year-old and not the twenty-year-old he was. How could he have been so stupid? "I'm sorry, Father. I know this isn't your fault. I know you're trying to do everything to help me and I'm sorry if I hurt your feelings. I feel like such a bantha fodder reacting that way. It was just shock talking. But hey, maybe it's stylish. Do you think girls would like it? Not that I know any…"

"Everyone gets upset, Luke. There is no need to apologize." Vader gently led his son from the large bay and they entered a long hallway. The Sith Lord's footfalls were loud and his black cape trailed out behind him, the fabric moving smoothly with each step. "I can be very emotional at times and I'm afraid you inherited that from me. Your mother, on the other hand, was the rational one. Still, there may be some truth to your words. Palpatine has been known to dabble in illegal things when it suited him. He had a clone army made over two decades ago. Still, this doesn't exactly sound like his sort of experiment. I fail to see how it would give him an advantage."

Luke frowned, the news troubling to his honest way of thinking.

"Luke, you must understand there is a group out there that starts these troubling rumors. The Empire is not perfect. No government or even person is perfect." Vader thought back to his youth and the joyful days spent in the Lake Country. How had Padme put it? She had always been better at politics than he had. "The trouble is, people do not always agree. One group wants this and another wants that. You can't please all the groups at the same time; no matter how hard you try. It becomes even harder when some people start lying. So that is why some people run around and say these troubling things you have heard. They wish to stir up trouble in the hopes that things will change in their favor. But the Empire tries to do what's best for the largest number of people, not only the filthy rich ones."

Vader's black-gloved robotic hand tightened into a fist. He didn't think that Palpatine had started this disease, but if he had…

/Whoever has caused this will pay with their life!./

Although Luke had shrugged it off and had even joked about it being fashionable, Vader still could feel his unease. They reached the lift and Vader motioned for Luke to get in and then the Sith Lord joined him. The doors swooshed close with a soft click and then the lift car started to move upward towards the Medical Deck. The discussion of politics had been nothing but a diversion so Luke could briefly forget it.

Lifting his eyes to his father's black mask, Luke swallowed nervously. He wet his lips uncertainly as fear clouded his eyes. "How … how is the doctor going to fix this, this whatever it is?"

"He will do a transplant, Luke."

Luke's eyes grew wide with fright and all the color drained from his face in utter horror. "A transplant? You mean he's going to cut me open?"

Reaching out, Vader placed a calming hand on the boy's shoulder. "Relax, Luke. It is not that kind of transplant. This is a bone marrow transplant. You will not be cut at all."

"Are you sure?" Luke asked, his voice uncertain. His frightened blue eyes flicked to the flashing bars of white light, each one signaling Sick Bay was getting closer and closer. Suddenly he didn't want to arrive there, ever. He didn't want doctors poking and prodding him, doing who knows what. Surely the white hair wasn't all that bad, was it? It certainly sounded preferable to a transplant.

Vader sighed, his son's thoughts easy to read. "Luke, I know what you're thinking…"

"You do?" Luke's eyes flickered back to the tall, dark figure. Surprise was etched on his face and his mouth gaped open slightly, his lips forming an "O".

"Yes. You are thinking it's preferable to live with white hair then go through a potentially painful and dangerous procedure. Am I correct?" Vader stood in the lift and patiently waited for a reply.

Luke nodded, the surprise still on his face. The long lock of white hair rested on his forehead, its lack of color startling among the rich golden brown of the rest of his hair. It looked quite odd, really, as the boy had bangs. Perhaps if he had been older with his hair swept back, it would look distinguishing. But Luke just couldn't pull that look off yet.

"Well, what if these are only the beginning of the changes?" Vader asked.

"What do you mean?" Luke replied.

"Luke, I don't mean to alarm you, but this is a very aggressive pathogen. It's likely it's going to do much more than just change your hair color." Vader informed the youth, afraid to tell him too much. Luke had already panicked once this day and with Sick Bay so near now, he needed to keep him calm. "Do you notice any other differences? I know there's white hairs growing from your bite mark."

Surprised, Luke pulled down the collar of the loose shirt he was wearing and with great difficulty peered at his injured shoulder. A gasp of astonishment escaped his lips when he saw the Sith Lord was right. Using his hand, he felt the short hairs and learned they were coarse and tough. "They don't feel like my hair at all!"

No, Luke's hair was soft and silky.

"In fact," Luke muttered as he closed his eyes and leaned his head against the firm wall of the moving lift. "They don't even feel human…"

Suddenly a cold wind blew through the Sith Lord and he couldn't help but shiver. Luke was changing into something, something not even human and he was powerless to stop it. A disturbing image danced before his eyes and he couldn't help but gasp. Luke stood in a green valley somewhere, jungle growth visible behind him. A large turbulent red world hung in the sky above, the world far too large to be a moon. His son wore a long dark cloak, the cowl pulled up over his head. It was similar to the one he had worn when he had destroyed the Younglings at the Temple, before he had been forced into this cursed suit of armor. A sly grin was on the boy's face and the whiteness of his hair had grown, the color spreading to both sides of his head. Something red was smeared on his lips and his hands rested upon the backs of two huge beasts. The beasts, Vader couldn't help but notice, were the same type that had bit Luke in the first place.

Stumbling backward, Vader hit the wall behind him and the vision disappeared. His heart pounded hard in his chest, tasking his electronic systems to cope with the added strain. Uncharacteristic sweat beaded on his brow and one salty drop fell into his eye, causing burning pain. His breath was labored, his mouth open and gasping.

/No! I won't allow that to come to pass! My son will not turn into one of those horrid creatures!./

Was that what the doctor had hidden from him? Unfortunately, it made perfect sense.

Concerned, Luke rushed forward to his father's side. "Father! Are you all right? Say something!"

"A Force-vision." Vader replied and inched himself off the wall and back onto his feet. "Do not be alarmed, Luke. I am well. It was just startling…"

"Oh." Luke turned his head at the noise of the door opening. Sick Bay was visible and he trembled slightly from the knowledge of what waited for him. Turning, he gazed at his father. "I don't have a choice, do I?"

"No, Luke. You don't." Vader placed a hand on his son's back and gently urged him out of the lift.

/Not all Force-visions come true…./

At the moment, the Sith Lord very desperately wanted to believe that. The alternative was unthinkable.

Finally the two men entered Sick Bay and Dr. Corrigan was waiting for them. He led Luke back to his small bedroom, explaining it would take some time to get ready. First they needed to remove the bone marrow from Vader.

The Sith Lord followed Corrigan to the prepared room and started to remove his armor. "How will you remove the bone marrow?"

"We will use a general anesthesia." Corrigan explained as he rolled his equipment towards the bed that Vader soon would be resting upon. Once Vader was ready and on the bed-like table, a respirator hooked to his face so he could breath. Corrigan pulled out a big, long needle. "I'm afraid this will take some time. We'll have to insert in hundreds of times to get enough bone marrow for the transfusion."

Vader groaned silently. This was going to be worst than he had feared. He knew the needle would have to be inserted into the middle of his pelvis bone, not just through his skin. It looked like he was facing a few difficult hours ahead.

/But I'll suffer through this gladly if it'll cure Luke!./

The pain he'd feel was worth it. Luke was his son and the boy's innocence was worth saving. He said he'd do anything for him and he had meant it. He'd even willingly go through this a second time if it were required.

/I must think positively. This will work…./

Time passed and finally Dr. Corrigan was satisfied he had enough of bone marrow to do the transfusion. The marrow itself was stored in a special container until it was needed. It needed to be kept fresh. But since Luke was nearby it needn't be frozen. Vader was moved to a different room for recovery and Luke was brought out of his room. He was irradiated using a machine and then the intravenous catheter was set up. The bone marrow material was suspended in the liquid within the intravenous bag and slowly passed into his blood vessel. Once within his veins, the marrow would travel until it settled in the correct places within his bones. If all went well, the marrow would thrive and start to grow.

And now they would just have to wait….

To be continued…

Author's Note: I'm not sure of Luke's exact age in A New Hope, so I just said 20. I also forgot to check if general anesthesia knocks a person out or if it's like the local anesthesia the dentist uses. As it's just a small bit of the story, I guess it doesn't really matter. I'm also unsure if the donor has to stay in the hospital after the bone marrow is removed?


	7. More Facts

Bloodmarrow 7

Author's Note: I took the weekend off from writing, but here's more. And THANKS for all the wonderful medical advice you guys and gals gave. I appreciate it. Some of you even answered questions I hadn't thought to ask. I'm not sure if I said it before or not, but I really don't know anything about medicine. I'm not a doctor or nurse or anything like that. I just researched the bone marrow transplant on the Internet and tried to understand it the best I could. It doesn't really seem that complex to explain in a story, but I'm sure for a real doctor its no piece of cake. I'm actually surprised that some of you out there know so much about medical procedures. But I guess doctors read fanfics, too. Thanks for reading.

Darth Vader awoke several hours later from his knocked-out state the general anesthesia had put him in. He felt a bit worst than normal, but he had expected that. One couldn't get a sharp needle poked into your bones and expect to feel perfectly fine afterwards. Things just didn't work that way. Glancing around, he could see he was in Sick Bay, the beeping medical equipment giving it away. He immediately thought of Luke and hoped his poor son was OK. Reaching out with the Force, he probed outward and found Luke's presence soon enough. Although he couldn't tell if the risky procedure had worked, he could sense his son was still alive. Besides, he knew it was too early to really know if his donation had made a difference.

/I hope it works…./

Just then Dr. Corrigan walked into the room and came over to his bedside. The doctor studied the readings on his medical machine and nodded to himself, satisfied. "I see you're awake."

"Yes," Vader replied. "When may I be released?"

"Well, normally I'd release a person after a few hours of observation or a day at the most," Dr. Corrigan admitted, his blue eyes going down to the respirator hooked onto the Sith Lord. "But you're not just anyone. You have all those pre-existing medical problems. So I'm afraid you'll have to stay here for several days. I can't have you suffering some sort of bad reaction to the anesthesia now, can I? And sticking that needle into your bone isn't like giving someone a shot, you know. It's very evasive."

"I feel fine." Vader replied, hoping to get out of Sick Bay early. Although he trusted Dr. Corrigan, he didn't relish being idle. Lying in Sick Bay for days with nothing to do seemed like a waste of time to him. He still had to find those missing droids, track down where that creature had come from. What if there were more of those things out there? Besides, he just didn't like doctors working on him. When he had been young and Dooku had cut off his arm, he really hadn't minded. Not that he enjoyed having a droid arm, no. He hated Dooku for that and had dreamed of revenge, even if those feelings had been wrong. But after Mustafar, he had had his share of doctors. It was like he had overdosed on them. Routine check-ups were OK, but this…

/How can I check on Luke and Obi-Wan if I'm stuck in this bed?./

It was not a pleasant thought. The doctor was the only one on the ship who really possessed the authority to boss him, who out-ranked him. But then, the out-ranking only applied to medical situations. If he weren't sick, the doctor couldn't boss him at all. Still, perhaps he could conduct business from his bed. _Executor_ ran smoothly thanks to his training of the personnel, his handpicking of officers. They could easily run the ship on day-to-day operations without his presence being required on the bridge. He had to have faith in his crew.

"Very well, Doctor. I shall listen to your wisdom in this matter." Vader conceded and nodded his head slightly. "Tell me, how is my son?"

"Well, it'll be some time until we know if the bone marrow is growing, I'm afraid." Dr. Corrigan explained as he stood at attention with his hands held behind his back. "I know that's not the answer you want, but it's true. It'll be at least a month before we know, maybe two months."

Vader's heart sunk into his toes at those words.

/A month to two months … how can I wait that long to know? That's forever!./

It seemed like forever. He could imagine the days stretching out before him like endless drops of sand in an hourglass, each one taking an eternity to pass by. If each hour seemed like a century, how long would two months be? He had never been good at patience and now he was expected to wait for up to two months, knowing that Luke might die at any moment during that time period? Raising his emotion filled blue eyes to the doctor's face, he saw the man was dead serious. A sorrowful expression was on the man's face and Vader suspected the doctor knew exactly what he was going through. Doctor Corrigan was a rare man indeed, a throwback to a previous era. He believed in the old way of doing medicine, the hands-on approach. Although he used modern equipment, he always preferred to rely on his own hands and skill instead of using droids. He didn't think droids had the ability to make the snap judgments needed during surgery if an unexpected emergency popped up. He kept abreast of all the latest medical discoveries and updated his supplies and devices frequently. He also got published in medical journals on a regular basis as well, his discoveries and research being top notch. But more importantly, he believed in the Oath he took, in saving lives. It didn't matter to Corrigan who the injured person was. If he or she needed his help, he'd help to the best of his abilities. And loosing someone always bothered him. He would brood and Vader would see it clearly in his crystal blue eyes; the Force wasn't even needed then.

/I am lucky to have such a Chief Medical Officer on _Executor_…/

And that was the truth.

Droids relied too much on fact and Vader could imagine the horror of having a droid attempt to heal Luke. It would simply state that there was no cure and that would be the end of it. Most droids couldn't think out of the box and dealt only in facts. If he had to rely on droids, his son wouldn't stand a chance.

"There's also the risk of other complications." Corrigan continued. "He may very well need a blood transfusion in the future. Or other problems might pop up. Then there's the slim chance that the pathogen survived our best efforts to kill it."

Dread filled the Sith Lord's body, the unpleasant feeling outweighing the new pain from the needle. He wanted to believe that Luke would be just fine, but thinking positive at a time like this wasn't easy. Besides, he never had been a one for thinking positive, no matter how often Obi-Wan had instructed him to do so. Maybe it just wasn't in him. Maybe that's why he had ended up a Sith Lord instead of a Jedi. He felt cold, as if he had been dunked in an icy, stagnant pond with weeds pulling him down into the deep, dark depths. The slimy weeds were his dark thoughts; his doubts and they always yanked him down, never letting up. He had known going in that the procedure was experimental, that it might not work on the disease at all. A bone marrow transplant wasn't designed to stop _Metoncedo Belua_. It was meant to stop other diseases; diseases of the blood and so on.

/I will make it through this endless wait somehow. I have to, for Luke's sake…/

Yes, he would. He had no other choice.

/And I must try to think positive…/

But at the moment, that seemed impossible to do. There seemed to be an endless list of things that could go wrong. And in his experience, things that could go wrong often did go wrong. The thought was not comforting at all. Worst, he would be stuck in this bed and he wouldn't even be able to see his son. He wanted to be there by his side, holding his hand. How could Luke be expected to recover if he couldn't see him? What if he thinks he was abandoned? His son needed to hear his voice talking to him, telling him he would be all right. He knew that the sick people that stood the best chance of recovery were those who were visited by friends and family. Without that, the person often didn't survive. They needed that will to live. They needed to know they had a reason to live. Without hope, they drifted off and died.

/I cannot allow Luke to think I abandoned him in his hour of greatest need!./

Struggling to sit up, Vader felt a sharp pain shoot through him where the needle had been inserted. Gasping, he admitted defeat and plopped back down onto the bed heavily, the mattress supporting his weight. A pale line surrounded his lips and he closed his eyes for a moment, his breathing fast.

Dr. Corrigan frowned. "Now I don't want you trying anything like that again! You just donated bone marrow! I have my hands full with your son; I don't need your systems going berserk as well. You're darn lucky you don't have problems with your respitory system! Normally I wouldn't even allow someone in your condition donate bone marrow. How would I explain your death to the Emperor?"

The pain faded and Vader sighed in relief. He knew the doctor was right. It had been a foolhardy and risky thing on his part, but what other choice did he have? The doctor was risking his own life as well. The Emperor would not take kindly to the fact that his well-trained apprentice had died because he was trying to save some uneducated Farmboy, if even that boy was Vader's son.

"Do you understand?" Dr. Corrigan asked, hands on hips. "Are you going to lie there properly and rest or do I need to assign a guard to watch you?"

"I will rest." Vader replied. Truthfully, he had little choice at the moment and he didn't dare messing up his other systems. If that happened, he'd have to stay in Sick Bay even longer. "But I wish to see Captain Piett or at least talk to him over the comm. Can that be arranged?"

"I don't see why not…" Corrigan moved away and brought back a portable comm. link. Placing it on a table he set up next to Vader's bed, he stepped back to examine the set up with a critical eye. "You can conduct your business through there, just as long as you don't overwork yourself! Remember, you're supposed to be resting. The more work you insist on doing, the longer you're going to be stuck in that bed. And your son is going to be in bed for a long time. If the transplant takes and he's cured, he'll have to learn how to do some things all over again. Just walking to the bathroom will be a real struggle. His muscles will be weak from forced inactivity. That means physical therapy."

/My poor son!./

The news was like a sharp blow to his kidney and he winched in sympathy.

/What have I done to Luke?./

The boy would be devastated to learn he couldn't even walk. It would break his heart. Walking was a thing they all took for granted and didn't truly miss until it was gone. Even when his legs had been burned off he hadn't needed physical therapy. His droid limbs worked just fine, the electronics accepted commands from his brain as his original nerves and muscles had. There had been no awkward stage in between. But Luke wouldn't have that option. This wasn't something you could fix with droid parts. If only it had been that simple! Not that he would want Luke to have droid parts. But learning how to walk all over again, that wouldn't be easy. It would be sheer torture. He could imagine Luke crying in frustration, wanting to give up. He'd grow angry and maybe throw things. Even a few steps would leave him out of breath, his body trembling and covered with a layer of sweat.

It would be real misery.

/Luke will hate me when he finds out!./

Just a few hours ago his son was dreaming of flying in a Tie-fighter and now he wouldn't even be able to walk a few miserly steps! And if Luke were anything like him, he wouldn't take it well. And all indication suggested that they were alike. Yes, the boy would hate him and there's nothing he could do about it. Worst, he may force Obi-Wan through the same horrible process. His former Master had already stated he didn't want to go through the transplant. Had he changed his mind in the meantime? Last he had seen Obi-Wan, the Jedi had been deeply disturbed about the white hairs growing from his palms. Were they enough to convince him the process was worthwhile? And if he still was against it, did he have any legal authority to force it upon him for his own good?

/How do I know I'm doing the right thing?./

Sometimes Vader still felt like a kid on Tatooine, unsure of himself. He could make military decisions in a heartbeat and he knew when to battle, but these sorts of decisions, they were much harder. Simply put, there was no easy answer. He didn't even know if the doctor had found a matching donor for the Jedi yet among the crew. Technically speaking, the transplant should be harder on Obi-Wan as he was much older. But being a Jedi, he was in much better physical shape then most men his age. Still, he wouldn't relish the idea of learning to walk any more than Luke would. He may hate it even more as he was used to having his body obey all sorts of commands due to his Jedi training. Yet, on the other hand, his Jedi training could be a bonus as he knew how to do a healing trance and thus could speed up the healing process…

Agghhh! It was maddening!

/How will I ever sort it all out, these pros and cons?./

It was hopeless really and Vader decided perhaps it was best to put it off until the doctor had finished running the HLA matching with all the crew.

/Perhaps Obi-Wan will take the decision out of my hands and heal himself with Jedi techniques…/

It was a calming thought and Vader latched on to it with all his will. The Jedi had always instinctively known his own body very well, far more than most people did. If he had still been an active Jedi on duty instead of hiding in exile all these years on Tatooine, he would have noticed the change within himself the moment it had happened. Vader remembered when they had traveled to that one planet years and years ago. These round things had attached themselves to them and they had slightly changed their body structure, their smell. Obi-Wan had noticed it right away and pointed it out to their hosts. It turned out there was nothing to worry about at all, the creatures just bonding with them. A tear leaked from underneath Vader's closed eyes as he remembered the sharp pain of loosing his living ship. It had been a part of him and it had died. It had been his real first loss and he had received Jedi counseling about it, yet even the counselors never had truly understood how deeply it had affected him. How could they understand, they who never really cared about anything or anyone? They grew up in a crèche without parents and expected him to act emotionless like they did. Yet he couldn't. His mother had been kind-hearted and that was installed in him since he was a baby. He could no more turn off his emotions than he could grow a second head. He wasn't a droid! He was _human_ and it was natural for humans to feel for each other, to grow attachments, to want to feel love and be loved. Yet the Council had denied all that.

Lifting a pale hand, he wiped the wet streak off his face. Thinking about the past didn't do him any good. It just caused him more heartache. He had to deal with the here and now. Reaching out, he lifted up the comm., he set it for voice only. The last thing he needed was for the bridge crew to see him with his mask off. His physical appearance was a well-kept secret and he wished to keep it that way. Calling Captain Piett, he waited for the man to answer.

"Lord Vader?" Piett's voice said over the mechanical device.

"You will backtrack the path of that beast." Vader ordered, his voice sounding as it always did. "I wish to know exactly where it came from, Captain. Is that understood? Give it the highest priority."

"Yes, My Lord!" Piett acknowledged. "You will be pleased, My Lord, to know we have recovered the missing plans of the Death Star. The two droids in question are aboard the ship this very minute."

"Very good, Captain." Vader said as he felt one problem lift off his shoulders. It was one less thing for him to worry about. "Begin the investigation about the beast and inform me the minute you learn anything of value."

"Right away, My Lord!" Piett said and then signed off.

Knowing that Piett was reliable, Vader could breath easier. Feeling tired, he placed the comlink back on the little table and closed his eyes. A nap would be good now. Within moments he had drifted off to sleep.

To be continued…


	8. A Visit With Luke

Bloodmarrow 8

Author's Note: I had to do more research to discover how Luke would feel after the transplant, as I just didn't want to say he felt 'lousy'. Everyone give a big round of applause to Dani who has helped provide me with information on Luke's medicine as well as the side affects from it - as well as general info on how people feel right after surgery. Without Dani's help this chapter wouldn't be as it is. Hope the wait was worthwhile. The crew estimate in this chapter was partly based on the fact that a regular Imperial-class Star Destroyer carries 9700 stormtroopers (I rounded that up to 10,000 and then added another 10,000 for the crew that actually runs the ship). Since a Super Star Destroyer is eight times larger, I multiplied the total number (crew and stormtroopers) by eight. It's the best I could do…

Many hours later Darth Vader woke up from his nap feeling refreshed and energized. He blinked his eyes and stared up at the white tile ceiling high overhead. Each square had little black dots on it or so it seemed. Loud beeping could be heard from the medical machinery that monitored his health and it reminded him that he was in Sick Bay. He immediately remembered that he had donated his bone marrow to Luke and his heart went out to the boy.

/My son…/

He didn't remember if he had dreamed while he had slept or not, but if he had, he was sure Luke had been in it. At the moment the young man was the most important person in his life and he wished with all his might that he would make a full recovery. A new sound made its way into his conscious thought. Soft footsteps were nearing and Vader's blue eyes shifted to the door of his private room. He supposed it could just be nurses making the rounds or perhaps seeing to new patients. Just because someone else wasn't fatally wounded didn't mean Sick Bay stood empty. With crew totaling over 160,000 including all the stormtroopers and Tie pilots, Sick Bay were kept busy doing routine medical exams. Then there were the assorted normal injuries that trickled in throughout the day and night: accidental burns from equipment shorting out, stomachaches, the ever-popular insomnia, carelessness and so forth. The footsteps went passed Vader's door and the Sith Lord sighed. He very much wanted to know how Luke was progressing. The not knowing was slowly driving him into a mild state of panic. It was far easier to accept his own injuries than his son's. It just felt natural for him to cuddle the boy and try to protect him from the vast arrays of hurt the galaxy could inflict on him. Realizing he had a unique tool in his position, he decided to make use of it.

Closing his eyes, Vader willed himself to relax. He eased his breathing and quieted his mind the best he could. From earlier in the day, he knew Luke was nearby, possibly in the next room over. Since he was already familiar with the boy's Force signature and a simple bond had formed between the two of them it was just a matter of reaching out. Vader did that, sending his senses right through the wall as if it didn't exist. The spark of light that was Luke called him like a bit of iron to a magnet and he rushed towards it eagerly. Within seconds he was there, right inside the boy. The first thing that assaulted his senses was an overwhelming tide of nausea and it took every ounce of willpower he had not to start retching himself. His stomach bubbled and boiled like a pot left on the stove too long and Vader strongly reminded himself that the feeling was not his own. Gripping his own stomach with an iron clad fist, he willed it back to where it belonged and the feeling passed, although it left him slightly queasy. Luke was conscious and apparently unaware of his presence, the boy's mind sleepy and caught in a haze. He apparently was aware of where he was but lacked the will to try and do anything, not that he could do anything. The lethargic feeling reminded Vader of the flu he had once suffered as a young Padawan at the Jedi Temple. His mind had felt sluggish like a badly tuned airspeeder and he just lazed in bed all day, dozing on and off while feeling miserable. His normally sharp mind had felt full of cotton and his head had hurt in a strange way. What Luke was feeling was similar but without the achy head bit. Not wishing to startle his sick son with a mental communication, he pulled back and departed.

Once his mind was safely back in his own body, Vader opened his eyes again and stared up at the ceiling. He felt partly relieved that Luke was apparently awake, even though he was not exactly his normal out-going self. Surely that was a good sign? He had survived the initial transplant and was still alive.

/Yet he feels so miserable…/

A bit of guilt chewed at Vader's mind. He was the one that had ordered the surgical procedure that had made Luke feel so terrible. To lie there and feel like you're going to throw up, that's no bed of flowers. It was one of the worst things a person could feel. Of course, getting burned topped the list of worst experiences. For sheer pain and misery, nothing beat a burn. But he didn't want to think about his own past now. Luke was his first concern and even though he had visited him mentally just a minute ago, he wanted to see him in person. He needed to verify with his own eyes that Luke was really alive. It was childish, yes, but the need was there all the same. It what came of being a parent he supposed. Yet this need had always burned within him; the desire for a family to call his own.

/I must ascertain my condition first…/

Turning his mind inward, he scanned over his own body with the Jedi techniques he had learned as a boy. Unlike normal humans, he could actually see inside himself and tell how his body was functioning. The false nausea had completely passed now and his old injuries stood out like black char marks on a field of pale blue. There was a new injury and it glowed a fiery red. This, of course, was where Dr. Corrigan had removed his bone marrow. Yet the wound was small and not all that serious. Concentrating his will and gathering the Force around him like a blanket, he attempted to heal the spot as best he could. Some Jedi had been gifted with healing, but it had never been one of his strong suits. He had been much better at the physical side of things: piloting, fencing, levitating, Force-Jumping and magically breaking his fall from incredible heights. Several times he'd almost given his poor Master heart attacks by leaping out of airspeeders thousands of feet up in the air with nothing underneath. Yet he had landed as softly as a feather and had never been harmed by his rash acts. In fact, he had enjoyed them. Concentrating harder, he willed the flesh to heal itself; the cells to knit back together into a smooth whole. He reasoned that since this was a small, minor wound compared to his other health problems; he should be able to heal it. He gripped the Force harder, his body trembling slightly from the effort he was producing. His heart rate soared and his breathing increased, even though he was supposed to be in a calm meditation during this. He was rapidly growing frustrated, his mood edgy. The Force wasn't obeying his commands!

"No!" Disgruntled, Vader's eyes flew up and he collapsed in his bed; a sheen of sweat coating his body. His mood was dark like an approaching thunderhead and his blue eyes reflecting this, the color darker than normal. "Why can't I heal it? It's not like my other ones…"

His old injuries were major and although he had attempted to heal those as well in the past, he could understand it. This, however, was small. And he was the most powerful Jedi, wasn't he? Palpatine had told him so.

/Of course, Palpatine can't fix his own body either, apparently…./

The Emperor looked horrible. His skin was rotten and decayed, often falling off in bits and pieces. In his greed for power, the old man channeled so much raw power through himself that it was actually wrecking his own health and would undoubtedly kill him one of these days. Yet Palpatine was unconcerned with his looks. He was the ruler of the galaxy and that was all that mattered to him. Perhaps he had never even tried to heal himself. Dark energy was not conductive to healing anyway, only destroying. Personally, Vader thought it was the Sith Lightning that made the Emperor look like a living corpse. He himself had never called on that blue lightning and he never would. The Emperor called on it far too often and used it just because he could. That, in Vader's opinion, was stupid. It was abusing the Force, being wasteful. It was like levitating an object to you when you could easily stand up and walk across the room to get it yourself. During a battle it was OK, but not in everyday situations. Dooku had used the Sith Lightning and he had never looked that way. But then, Count Dooku had been trained as a Jedi and he was frugal.

Deciding he'd have to do things the old fashioned way, Vader cautiously placed his palms flat on the bed and slowly pushed himself upright into a sitting position. During this, he was mindful of the slightest bit of pain he might feel. If he wanted to see Luke today, he'd have to get out of bed. When no stabs of pain surged through him, he breathed slightly easier. He felt a bit of tenderness in the area where the needle had been inserted, but that was to be expected. Still, it wasn't bad and he quickly dismissed it from his mind. His mouth felt dry and parched, more so than usual. Could it be he had been snoring during his nap? Glancing towards the table next to his bed, he spotted a tall glass of water and he reached for it. Sipping the room temperature water, he realized he felt oddly naked sitting here. It wasn't often that he was out of his suit of armor and mask when he wasn't in his private quarters. The idea that just anyone could walk into his room and see his face, well, that brought up a wild myriad of feelings. Chief among them was fear, unease and nervousness.

/Of course, they would not recognize me…/

If he were to go visit Luke like this, would the boy even recognize him? Of course, Luke was a bit out of it at the moment, apparently.

/Still, I would like to see him…/

The door to his room opened just then and Dr. Corrigan strolled in, a data padd under his arm. The man's eyes registered the fact that the Sith Lord was sitting up and a brief smile played across his lips. "Feeling better today, are we?"

"Yes, I am." Vader admitted. "I would like to go see Luke if that's possible."

"I think we can manage that." Dr. Corrigan replied as his eyes studied the readout on the monitoring medical equipment. Each moving line or beep meant something to the doctor, although it looked like a bunch of gibberish to anyone else. "In fact, it's good that you visit him. Patients that get visitors have a much better chance of recovering, as someone cares about them. It's a proven fact. But there's a few things you need to understand first."

Vader focused all of his attention on the doctor, knowing that the information would be vital to Luke's health. "Yes, I'm listening."

"First of all, people that just had a transplant are very susceptible to getting sick." Dr. Corrigan leaned against the nearby wall as he talked, his eyes on Vader's face. "You see, his immune system isn't working right now, so any little bug could kill him. I mean anything, even the common cold. So we must be extremely careful when we go visit him. You'll need to wear a facemask that'll cover your nose and mouth, as those are prime places for bugs to hang out. I have a field set up around him for protection, but it's best to not take unnecessary chances. The old reliable ways are best."

Vader nodded his understanding. "The field is like an energy barrier, am I correct?"

Dr. Corrigan smiled. "That's right, it is. It's similar to the shields the ship uses down in the landing bays or in the detention deck. But these are designed to keep virus and bacteria that may be floating in the air away from the sick patient. It's standard procedure these days. You'll also have to wear special gloves and slippers."

"But I have mechanical hands…" Vader reminded the doctor, holding one of them up. The light reflected off the smooth gold surfaces, creating white highlights. Although they had more advanced prosthetics these days, he had never found the time to upgrade his. Rumor was the new ones they days could actually feel things, just like a real hand.

"It doesn't matter." Corrigan explained as he held up his own hands. "All day you touch countless things with your hands. All sorts of germs and dirt collect on them, even if you wash them. Stop and think how many things you touch in a day and how many people have touched it before you, how many sneezed on it, coughed on it? What sicknesses do those people have? You just can't know so you need to wear these gloves. Now later, once you're back in your suit and helmet, you can forgo the facemask but you'll still need to put the gloves and slippers on. They can go on right over your own boots and black gloves. I know it's a hassle but you need to do it each and every time you visit your son. If you don't, you run the risk of him getting sick. Don't rely on the medical field in his room."

Vader bowed his head slightly in respect and understanding. When he was in his suit, he had his own self-contained air supply. That's why he wouldn't need the facemask. "I do not wish to play sabacc with my son's life. I will do as you say."

"Good." Dr. Corrigan smiled again, pleased that the Sith Lord was taking him seriously. "Now, you need to prepare yourself. Your son is not looking at his best right now, obviously. So don't be surprised. He's feeling lousy and he's probably not in a good mood. He's also on several medications or what's more commonly called an immuno suppressant cocktail. The first drug, called Cylclosporin, stops his body from attacking the bone marrow you donated. Normally a person's body attacks any foreign invader and we need to stop that from happening. The body does this through white blood cells. If you ever read about the immune system you should understand this. The white blood cells attack the invader and hopefully destroy it. Normally that's good but not in cases of transplants. The second drug is called Azathioprine and it suppresses the white blood cells. The last drug in the cocktail is Prednisone. It's an anti-inflammatory and also helps the body accept the bone marrow. You with me so far?"

The Sith Lord sighed but nodded his head yet again. It was alarming to hear his poor son was on so many drugs but there was no help for it. The drugs were there to help Luke make a recovery. And no drug was perfect. Each had its own side-affects, some worse than others. "Yes, I understand."

Vader moved his bare droid feet to the ground and sat on the edge of the bed. Accepting the special slippers, he slid each one over his metal feet. Once that was done, he pulled the gloves on and then the facemask. Silently he followed the doctor out of the room he had been in, the pale blue hospital gown reaching to his thighs. The gown was cool and drafty, the material too thin compared to his leather and metal suit. Still, he had little time to reflect on this as his mind was focused on Luke. He was unsure what he should expect to see; yet the doctor had told him to prepare himself. His nerves jumping slightly, he followed Corrigan into Luke's room.

Luke rested in bed in a slightly propped up position, the bed raised slightly. An i.v. stood next to his bed, the long plastic tube carrying some liquid down to his arm. The needle was secured in place with a bit of medical tape. A soft blue haze of energy surrounded the bed, the medical field Corrigan had mentioned earlier. It was transparent, however, and he could see his son just fine. Luke's face was pale and drops of sweat marred his forehead, yet Vader could see chills running all through his body. A slightly greenish tinge was visible and he could see Luke swallow reflectively as he fought the nausea. His face also appeared covered in a slight sheen of grease and what appeared to be a pimple had already formed on his chin.

/My poor son! How he suffers!./

"Luke, I am here…" Vader said through the facemask, hoping his words would come out clearly. They did and he waited for a response, his heart thudding in his chest. He had been forced to bring his portable respirator with him, so at the moment he and Luke were not that different; each hooked up to medical machinery. The thin facemask clung to his lips and cheekbones, the feeling strange and unfamiliar. He was so used to wearing his black breath mask that any change felt bizarre. With each outward breath he took, the thin material fluttered against his lips, tickling him. It actually was annoying and the urge to rip it off was strong. Still, he knew he couldn't do that no matter what. The last thing he wanted was for his tormented son to suffer more on his account. No, Luke's needs had to come before his own.

Slowly, Luke turned his head slightly, his blue eyes focusing on Vader. His gaze looked slightly drugged, which wasn't surprising. Then confusion surfaced in his eyes and face. "Father? Is that you?"

"Yes, Luke." Vader replied, his spirit rising slightly as Luke had guessed who he was. But then, who else did the boy know on the Star Destroyer?

"I feel miserable…" Luke admitted honestly. He closed his tired eyes for a moment, resting them. His body was being assaulted by all types of things, it seemed and he didn't like it one bit. "I think the cure is worst than that disease…"

"I know it must seem that way, Luke." Vader intoned, his heart broken by seeing Luke so ill. He watched as Luke pulled the light sheet up closer to his chin, his thin body being raked by shivering. "But this will pass. It'll be for the best in the end. You'll see…"

"You don't know how I feel." Luke muttered sadly.

"Yes, I do." Vader softly said as he gazed down at the young man. "I had a terrible flu once years ago and I felt very similar to what you're feeling now. My head banged with the beat of a pod engine, chills swept through my bones and every few minutes I felt like tossing up the broth Obi-Wan had fed me. My nosed was stuffed up so badly I had to breathe through my mouth and my throat was on fire. Swallowing anything, even the wet broth, was like eating crushed glass. I felt groggy and couldn't think straight, either."

Luke moaned in response.

"I should let you rest." Vader finally said, feeling the boy's agony through the weak link they shared. He didn't want to tire Luke out too much, especially so soon after the transplant. But Luke now knew he was here and hadn't forgotten about him. "I'll come back and visit you soon."

"All right…" Luke groaned, his eyes still closed as more beads of sweat appeared on his brow. "I'm … I'm glad that you came."

Taking a final glance at the sick boy, Vader followed the doctor out of the room. Once outside, he removed the slippers, gloves and the facemask, disposing them in a trash can. Each one could only be used once. Pausing, the Sith Lord reflected on what he had seen. All in all, he supposed Luke didn't look too bad, although he knew appearances could be deceiving. It may look like the flu but it was much more serious. The transplant could refuse to take and Luke could still die. It was probably a miracle that he was talking at all…

/At least the white streak in his hair has not grown…/

Remembering about Obi-Wan, Vader turned to Dr. Corrigan. "I'd like to see the Jedi now."

"Very well." Dr. Corrigan led him to the next room over and opened the door, motioning him to go in with his arm. "When you're done, you should return to your room and rest a bit. So far you're not having any reaction to the procedure, but I'd like to keep you another day to play it safe."

"Did you find any matching donors for him yet?" Vader asked almost fearfully.

"Well, the computer is running through the crew but with 160,000 people aboard it takes a long time. Also, you must remember that the HLA factor is not a thing normally kept in a person's medical file, like the blood type is. So we've been actually bringing likely crewmembers in and testing them I'm afraid…" Dr. Corrigan himself wasn't satisfied with the answer he gave but what could he do? "We're doing it as quickly as we can and I have most of my staff working on it around the clock."

At this bit of news, Vader's heart skipped a beat. It didn't sound good at all and his hope sank down into a deep pit.

"These sort of procedures often rely heavily on relatives, siblings. You must understand that to find a total stranger who's HLA matches your own…" Dr. Corrigan waved his hands in a helpless way, deep sorrow on his face. "We'll keep looking, of course. We may get lucky."

/It's like looking for the one silver credit among a mountain of copper ones…/

Still, Vader attempted to keep his hopes up. He had to think positively. What other choice was there? He was unsure what to expect, as the disease must have progressed while he had been sleeping. Would Obi-Wan have some sort of streaks in his hair by now? Would other things have developed? And more importantly, what state of mind were his old friend and mentor in? Last he had seen the Jedi, he had been quite shaken by the white hairs growing from his palms. Deciding that perhaps in was best to check his mood first through their bond, he sent his senses through the door. If he was expecting depression and gloominess, he got a real shock.

Confidence radiated out from Obi-Wan; a confidence he had never felt in his Master before. Although most Jedi were sure of themselves, like Maser Windu, Obi-Wan had never been one of them. He had always felt he had been too young and ill prepared to have an apprentice, being little more than a Padawan himself. The apprenticeship had been forced on him by a dying man's words and Obi-Wan had felt obligated to keep that promise. More often that not during Anakin's training, Obi-Wan had remained silent when the younger man made mistakes. This often put both of them in dangerous situations. It wasn't that Obi-Wan meant to do it, he just wasn't sure if he should mention it or not. His fear of making a mistake and possibly looking stupid or foolish kept him silent. Then there was the fact that he and Anakin were very different types of people. During Obi-Wan's training, he had often discovered his own mistakes in time and so that approach worked fine. But Anakin was not Obi-Wan. Yet the only way Obi-Wan knew to train the boy was the way Qui-Gon had trained him. To do something different training wise had not occurred to the new Jedi nor would it be welcome. He had thought if it worked on him, why not on Anakin? As time passed, the two grew more and more distant to each other; the close and rewarding bond other Masters and Apprentices shared never forming between the two of them.

Another factor was that in normal cases Jedi were allowed to pick their own Padawan. Time was allowed for them to study the Younglings and get to know them. After several years of conversations with the Younglings, a Jedi normally picked someone who suited his or her personality; someone similar to themselves in temperament. This prevented the problem Obi-Wan had with training Anakin. Anakin required a deeper relationship that Obi-Wan could give him. The boy, used to expressing his feelings freely and seeing nothing wrong with that, had thought Obi-Wan cold and standoffish. He couldn't understand why the Jedi wouldn't share his feelings and thoughts with him. Over time, Anakin decided it meant that Obi-Wan didn't really care about him or that nothing he ever did was good enough for his Master. The truth, however, was that Obi-Wan found sharing his feelings with others difficult to do. It was embarrassing and made him nervous, so he kept putting it off. Often he'd decide that he'd praise Anakin for a job well done but it never seemed to be the right moment. Something else always came up and then too much time had passed, so the boy never received his praise.

And now to feel his former Master radiating confidence, well, it was troubling. Taking a deep breath, Vader palmed the door open and stepped into the room. He spotted the Jedi right away, standing in front of a small mirror and combing his hair. The Sith Lord had no idea where he had gotten the mirror from as the rooms in Sick Bay normally didn't have them, yet a mirror hung on the wall.

/Perhaps he used a Jedi mind trick to get it…/

"Hello, Anakin." Obi-Wan said as he turned to face the Sith Lord, two reddish streaks going through his white hair. A weak smile appeared on his lips as he studied his former apprentice. Obi-Wan's face looked smoother and younger, his skin free of blemishes caused by Tatooine's dry air and age. "So, how are you feeling? You don't look too good, you know. It must be a real pain dragging that respirator around with you. Wouldn't you like to be free of it? I think I could help you there…"

To be continued…

Not sure if I need a Disclaimer for using the names of medicine in the story. If so, it's not mine. It belongs to some medical company I'm sure. Just borrowing it for the story!


	9. ObiWan

Bloodmarrow 9

"Hello, Anakin." Obi-Wan said as he turned to face the Sith Lord, two reddish streaks going through his white hair. A weak smile appeared on his lips as he studied his former apprentice. Obi-Wan's face looked smoother and younger, his skin free of blemishes caused by Tatooine's dry air and age. "So, how are you feeling? You don't look too good, you know. It must be a real pain dragging that respirator around with you. Wouldn't you like to be free of it? I think I could help you there…"

Vader stared at his former master, hot alarm spiking through him. It was clear that something was wrong with him, seriously wrong with him. "Obi-Wan, you are not well…"

"Of course I'm well, Anakin!" Obi-Wan replied calmly, placing the comb onto his bed. His fingernails had turned blackish, as if he had painted them with fingernail polish. Yet he didn't seem to notice or care about this new startling change. "I assure you I didn't feel this good in years. You really should try it…"

"Master, your fingernails!" Vader blurted out as he gawked in horror at the Jedi's black nails. They were as dark as his armor and just looking at them sent chills down his spine.

"What? These?" Obi-Wan held up both hands with the palms facing himself so the Sith could see his nails better. The tips were pointed and appeared very sharp. The Jedi glanced at them a moment and shrugged. "It's nothing, Anakin. They're just fingernails. Why are you making such a big deal out of it?"

"They're black and pointed!" Vader exclaimed as if that proved his point. This was far worst than a few streaks of white hair – or red in Obi-Wan's case. It suggested a much bigger change was going on within a Jedi. The fingernails had almost turned into _claws_. And what type of species had claws? Predators! Obi-Wan was rapidly turning into a fierce predator and the worst part was he seemed to be enjoying it!

/I have to do something! I have to make him see what's happening to him!./

If he didn't…

/I'll loose him forever!./

The thought of actually loosing Obi-Wan, it was more than he could take. At one time he wouldn't have cared. On Mustafar he would have killed him gladly and never even looked back. But he had been in a grip of rage then. He had been young, his body burning with all kinds of hormones. It was near impossible for him to think straight back in those days. But he had matured now, mellowed out. Sure, he was still a Sith but he was far smarter now. He could be patient if he wanted to be and he didn't fly off the handle as quickly anymore. And now that he knew the Jedi had stayed loyal to him all these years, watching over his innocent son and protecting him, why, he _owed_ it to Obi-Wan to help him! And if he couldn't, if the Jedi changed into one of those bloodthirsty beasts…

/I'd be forced to kill him…/

The pathogen couldn't spread. That was clear. It was too deadly, too resistant to medication. The thought of slicing his friend with his red bladed lightsaber, it sent waves of nausea through his stomach and an icy chill down his back. He couldn't do it. He couldn't kill Obi-Wan! Perhaps they hadn't been the best pair of master and apprentice, mismatched the way they were. But they had years of being together and had their own sort of bond. They had been through thick and thin together, saving each other's lives countless times. How could he throw that all away? He couldn't, that's what.

/I can't kill him, I can't kill Obi-Wan!./

"So? What does the color of one's nails matter?" Obi-Wan frowned and closed the distance between them. A sparkle glowed in his blue eyes just as they always have done. "Anakin, no matter what you think, I'm still _me_. My core of who I am hasn't changed. Well, maybe I feel more confident in myself but how can that hurt anyone? I really think I can control this thing on my own…"

Sith were supposed to be fearless and as one Vader hadn't experienced true fear in a long, long time. He didn't bat an eyelash at dogfights were ships blew up all around him and his heart rate never soared in the face of danger. Yet this, this was more disturbing than anything he had ever witnessed. The closest thing he could think of was that day in Palpatine's office when he had realized the awful truth, that he had picked the wrong side. He remembered the shock flowing through him, collapsing to his knees. This feeling was similar yet different. This was scarier. It triggered responses on his most primitive level. He watched the Jedi inch closer and he wanted to move backward, away from him. Yet at the same time he thought it ridiculous.

/I can't really be scared of Obi-Wan!./

No, Obi-wan was his brother, father and best friend all in one. He trusted Obi-Wan with his life.

/But I don't trust that thing within him…/

Vader once again wanted to step backward and found himself frozen in place. He had heard others describe this exact thing happening to them and he had snorted at it, sure it would never happen to him. He was the most gifted Jedi ever! He could do things with ease the first time and he could do things others could only dream about. That and he was phenomenal at the physical stuff. And yet his feet refused to obey his commands! He could only stand there, watching helplessly, as the Jedi moved closer and closer. His heart pounded inside his chest and he demanded more air from his respirator. One droid hand was frozen around the long hose that connected to the air tank that floated along behind him. Obi-Wan reached out and placed one of his long nailed hands on his shoulder, the heat of the Jedi-s skin soaking into his body through the thin material of the cotton hospital gown.

"Anakin, it pains me to see you like this." Obi-Wan said, his blue eyes filled with sorrow and regret. After gazing into Vader's pained filled eyes for several moments, his eyes dropped lower to the mechanical limbs. He also remembered that day on Mustafar all too well and had lost sleep over it countless nights, waking up screaming from nightmares. Not that there was anyone to hear him out there on the salt flats of Tatooine. If one wanted isolation, then Tatooine was the perfect place. Lifting his eyes back upward, he sighed. "Anakin, I don't know if you'll believe me, but I never wanted us to fight that day. Things just spiraled out of control. It broke my heart to see you a Sith. I felt betrayed but I also felt that I failed you. I've spent years out there in the desert thinking of my failure, of what I could have done different…"

Surprise shot through the Sith Lord at the Jedi's words.

"I … I should have done something different that day." Obi-Wan continued, his hand still resting on his former apprentice's shoulder. "I never should have snuck on Padme's ship, I never should have ignited my lightsaber against you; I know that now. But I wasn't thinking straight, either. But that's no excuse for my actions. And I never should have let _this_ happen to you."

Obi-Wan moved his hand off Anakin's shoulder and gripped one of his droid hands. The metal was cool in his grip, the gold shiny and reflective. Long bits of white hair were visible against the golden metal from where it grew from his palms. He curled his fingers around Anakin's mechanical hand, the black fingernails clearly visible. When compared to the innumerable humanoid species in the galaxy, the nails really weren't all that strange a sight. But for someone who was supposed to be human… The Jedi stared into Vader's blue eyes, a sheen of liquid tears coating his own. "Anakin, I thought about this every day since we parted. I can't believe what a vile, disgusting monster I had been that day; to just leave you there like that. It was inhuman! I can't imagine the horrendous pain you must have gone through to survive that. Not many could. I thought I could never make it up to you. I took care of your son the best I could while not directly interfering in his life. But I did watch out for him and made sure nothing bad happened. But now, now we can have a fresh start!"

"A fresh start?" Vader asked, slightly perplexed by the Jedi's words. The very fact that Obi-Wan was apologizing for his action on Mustafar was surprising indeed and something he thought he'd never hear. "Obi-Wan, don't you realize I'm still a Sith? I'm not going to change sides just because you've apologized. I believe in the Empire and what it stands for: law and order for everyone."

"What does it matter? Anakin, I sat on that dustball for twenty years by myself!" Obi-Wan exclaimed, his hands tightening their hold on Vader's droid hand. "I was miserable and moping about, meditating on the edge of a cliff. I sat there so long that the place literally reeks with my grief! But that's all over now. We're together again and we can start anew!"

Anakin blinked, totally caught off guard.

"Anakin, I missed you! Don't you understand that?" Obi-Wan stated.

"You … you missed me?" Vader asked, surprise clear on his pale face. He had been sure Obi-Wan had hated him. And now to learn just the opposite…

"Of course I missed you." The Jedi stated. His blue eyes took in Vader's pasty white skin; the dark circles under his eyes, the ugly burn marks on his face that never had healed right. If he could have seen the back, he would have been aghast at the deep red cracks that marred the back of Vader's skull. More burns were on his chest, back and the rest of his trunk. It had just been a miracle – or a curse – he had survived. "But this, this is my fault. It breaks my heart to see you like this, trapped within that iron suit. Let me fix it for you…"

"What do you mean?" Suspicion rose within him and Vader suddenly remembered his fear of the Jedi. Although he felt Obi-Wan's words were true and he had missed him, the man was not himself. "You're not a doctor."

"Anakin, look at me!" Obi-Wan ran a hand across his smooth cheek, free of wrinkles and over dry skin. Lifting his hand to his hair, he ran it through his thicker locks. "I'm young again! If it can help me I'm sure it can help you as well! Just think, you wouldn't need that respirator anymore!"

/No more respirator…./

The words and what they meant resounded in the Sith Lord's mind. He imagined being free of the awful mask and helmet for the first time in twenty years. He could feel the sun on his face again; feel the warm caress of a breeze or the soft tinkle of the rain. Perhaps he'd even grow new hair on his head. He remembered how he had loved feeling the wind blow through his long locks, the pleasant sensation that had accompanied such a simple act. It had been pure heaven.

/And I would be free of pain…/

Yes, the aches and injuries of his body would finally knit itself together and he'd be whole as he was meant to be. He would be once more at full power and able to do what he wished to do. It was tempting, oh so tempting! And Anakin had never been good at resisting temptation. He had given in to both the loud calls of Padme's body and the dark embrace of the Sith. But this … this would be insane!

/He is turning into a beast! Why am I even considering this?./

But he had dreamed of being free of pain for years and years. He hated the mask and suit he was forced to wear over his mangled body. He had power, both through the Force and through the Empire. He was next in line for the throne and he would be a fool to give that up. He would be Emperor someday and he couldn't risk turning into some mindless beast like the one that had attacked his son.

/And I have a son and daughter to care for now…/

"Obi-Wan, can't you see you are changing into the very thing that attacked Luke? That beast?" Vader hoped this would snap some sense into the Jedi. Time was up for beating around the bush, he had to get rough and hoped it worked. Reaching out, he carefully gripped one of the Jedi's hands. He was mindful of the sharp claws. Up close they looked very wicked and even though his arms were mechanical he wasn't about to take any chances. "Look at your nails! They're almost claws!"

"Anakin, that _thing_ was not Force-sensitive. We are!" Obi-Wan cried as he pulled his hand away from his former Padawan. Crossing his arms over his chest, he stared at Vader. "Anakin, do you have such little faith in me? Can't you trust me when I say I can handle this thing?"

"I trust you, Master, it's that pathogen I don't trust." Vader replied coolly. "What am I supposed to do when you grow a snout and start running around on all fours like an animal?"

"Anakin, how many times do I have to tell you I'm not your Master anymore? You have a _new_ master or did you forget?" The Jedi frowned, his senses reaching outward towards the Sith. Some of Vader's emotions floated on the surface, but others were deeper where he couldn't get at them. "Or could it be you're not entirely satisfied with Palpatine, either? Are you thinking of higher goals? A move upward?"

A slight hope sprung up from within Obi-Wan's chest. If Anakin was annoyed at Palpatine for some reason, then perhaps he could persuade him from the Dark Side! And if not from the Dark Side, well, at least convince him to get rid of the Emperor. It would be a step in the right direction at least. With Luke out of commission for months if not years, he had to work with what he had. Better yet, Anakin was fully trained. Perhaps he'd fill the prophecy yet…

"I am not exactly pleased with his current goals." Vader cautiously stated, unsure if he should voice such feelings at all. But this was his ship and he was in charge.

Obi-One raised an eyebrow. "Really? And what don't you like?"

"This nonsense of building the Death Star. The super weapon is insignificant when compared to the power of the Force."

"And _this_ enhances our abilities!" The Jedi exclaimed, emotion clear in his blue eyes. "Just _listen_ to me! We are not normal people! We have medi-clorians and we are intimate with our bodies. We can control our breathing, heart rate and see inside ourselves. We're both fully trained Jedi, Anakin. This would overrun a normal person. They would be changed into a mindless thing; I agree with that. But that doesn't have to happen to us. We can use this to our benefit. Imagine wounds healing overnight, your senses increasing. Anakin, I can _hear_ your heart beating in your chest!"

Vader blinked in surprise. "You … you can hear my heart?"

The Jedi nodded. "And I can smell you."

"Smell me…" Vader's eyes flickered down to the sharp black nails on Obi-Wan's fingers. He could feel his nerves jumping and his heart soared in response. The things his old mentor was describing went very well with the senses of a dangerous predator. Did they not have excellent scent and hearing? Without them, how else would they catch prey? But what exactly did Obi-Wan smell on him? The last thing he wanted was to give off the fear-scent of prey.

"Yes, smell you." Obi-Wan repeated. "My eyesight has also improved. This doesn't have to be a bad thing."

Reaching out with the Force, Vader stretched his senses towards Obi-Wan. He wanted to know for himself what the man was experiencing. If he could withstand Luke's nausea surely he could withstand this? Feeling his approach, the Jedi dropped his shields and allowed him within his mind. They were quite familiar with each other's minds, Anakin often picking up how things were done by watching Obi-Wan doing them from within his mind. The Jedi hadn't minded Anakin learning techniques that way, but his emotions and thoughts had always been locked behind another barrier. This time, however, they were free for him to experience.

The new self-confidence was there but Vader pushed it aside. He could feel new strength flowing through his body and all his limbs. The feeling was amazing and he felt almost drunk on it. To be young and whole again! He felt as if he could do almost anything. He himself didn't ever remember feeling this strong physically. There was an enticing smell in his nose, familiar and it produced a somewhat calming effect. And yes, he could hear the rhythmic beating of a heart…

Vader pulled back, amazed. He didn't understand how Obi-Wan could feel so physically strong when he appeared the same, no added bulk of muscle. It was confusing. Yet he couldn't get that wonderful memory of being so perfectly whole out of his mind.

/If only I could be that way…/

Obi-Wan seemed to know exactly what he was thinking, for he smiled and stepped closer. "Don't deny yourself the chance of being healed, Anakin. I did this to you now let me fix it. You know I can."

"I…" Vader hesitated, knowing he should flee from the room while he had the chance. He had given in to temptation two times before and each had been a disaster of sorts. Yet he didn't want to live with this pain, either. It was a constant annoyance that never quit. It pounded on him every hour of every day.

"We can be brothers, real brothers. You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Obi-Wan held one of his hands palm up and deftly sliced it with one of his sharp nails. Instantly a red line of blood appeared across his hairy palm and the Jedi held it out towards the Sith Lord. "It'll be easy, Anakin. We just exchange a bit of blood, that's all. What do you say, hmmmm?"

Anakin's blue eyes drifted from the red blood leaking out of the shallow cut. He was astonished how easily the black, pointed nail had cut through the skin as if it were tissue paper. This was real. Obi-Wan, his friend and mentor, was really changing into a beast. It just was so hard to believe…

/Things like this don't happen!./

Just like slave boys don't win their freedom in a pod race and run off to be Jedi? Or how a former slave becomes the second richest man in the entire galaxy? Or marrying a Queen who was so beautiful she could be an angel?

/Or finding my long-lost son…/

The red blood held Vader enraptured. He watched it slowly pool in a small puddle amid the white hairs growing from the Jedi's palm. All that was required now is that he cut himself somewhere on his real body, exchange blood. He had heard the term blood brothers before and knew that exchanging blood was a silly thing lots of young children did. They thought magic existed in the exchanging and that the very act was a binding of sorts that nothing could break. It was all in their heads, of course. In most cases it did nothing at all. In a few cases one of them might catch a disease from the other. This, however, was far different. Obi-Wan wanted to give him the pathogen on purpose, as it had the ability to heal his injuries.

/I could do it…/

But doubt gnawed on his mind. He didn't really know for a fact that Obi-Wan could control the disease as he claimed. Tearing his eyes away from the red blood, he lifted them to the Jedi's young face.

"Don't be scared, Anakin. If I can control this, I know you can!" Obi-Wan smiled a toothy smile, his lips pulling back from his teeth. As he did so, his longer and wider than normal eyeteeth were revealed. The canines flashed in the light of the room like sharp daggers.

Vader gulped at the unexpected sight, wide-eyed. "I…"

To be continued…


	10. A Clue

Bloodmarrow 10

"Yes?" Obi-Wan prompted, the smile still on his face. His blue eyes sparkled in the overhead light and he stepped nearer. "Don't let fear stop you from being whole again. Don't you owe yourself that much?"

"I have my duty." Vader firmly replied as he tore his eyes off the tempting blood slowly oozing from the shallow cut. He wouldn't lie to himself. He wanted it, even if he knew he shouldn't. It was wrong and dangerous and everything dark, but those things hadn't stopped him before. Hadn't he joined the Dark Side? Wasn't he a Sith Lord? Yet the desire for it glowed within him like nothing he knew before. It was within every cell of his body screaming out to be healed once and forever. No more agonizing days gasping for air with fume-damaged lungs and charred body parts.

Obi-Wan's blue eyes widened in disbelief and his mouth dropped open. "Your duty? Anakin, you have a duty to yourself, to heal yourself!"

"Would you have me abandon the people that need me?" Vader asked, his voice stead. Resisting temptation was one of the hardest things he ever did and he knew he still might give in yet. He had never been good at that sort of thing. It had been his undoing. He lusted after too many things; first flesh, then power and now healing.

/My duty is to Executor… my ship and all aboard her must come first…/

It was true. It was a solemn oath he had taken when he had accepted command of the Super Star Destroyer. It was the first ship of its size – ever. The Emperor had built it just for him as a gift and as a way to show he appreciation of his worth. The thousands of lives aboard rested on his shoulders and he took it seriously. If he were to accept this miracle that the Jedi was offering him, he could very well be giving up everything else he had worked so hard to achieve. What would become of the ship then, its crew, the Empire? With him gone, it all might crumble away.

"No, of course I wouldn't! You know that…" Obi-Wan replied, his hand dropping down to his side. It hurt that his apprentice didn't trust him enough to accept this gift he had offered. His gaze slumped to the floor sadly. "I suppose I can't expect you to trust me after what I did to you…"

"Perhaps if you can prove to me that you will not turn into one of these murderous creatures…" Vader let his words trail off. He could make no promises to Obi-Wan. He still clung to the wispy hope that a donor would be found for his good friend and mentor, but it was as thin as evaporating mist.

"The offer is still open, Anakin. If you should change your mind…" Obi-Wan smiled weakly, the points of his sharp canines sticking out between his lips.

The sight was enough to send shivers down Vader's spine.

"I should go. You get some rest." Vader turned and walked out the door, his floating respirator following him. Once he heard the door swoosh shut behind him, he sighed loudly and his broad shoulders visibly slumped downward. Closing his eyes for a moment, he leaned against the nearby wall. His legs were trembling and he feared if it weren't for the wall he would collapse into a boneless heap on the floor. Walking out that door had been one of the hardest thing he had ever done in his life and he feared he might have given in.

/But I did it. I remained strong…/

But he almost hadn't. He had been so close to accepting Obi-Wan's offer. How many other people hadn't been so lucky? How many others had been given no choice in the matter, like Luke and Obi-Wan? Where had the disease had come from? He still needed the answerers to these very important questions. The safety of the Empire itself might be at risk. A lot of people out there were weak-willed. They didn't have the fortitude that he did, the discipline of Jedi training. If someone started hawking it as an easy Miracle Cure…

A dark cold lump formed in his stomach and he shuddered. It would be horrible. The disease would spread rapidly then and would be near unstoppable. Dismissing the feeling in his stomach the best he could, he pushed away from the wall and stood on his own two feet. It didn't matter that he had just given bone marrow; he had a ship to run and decisions to make. It was just sheer luck he had stumbled upon this at all. What would have happened if he hadn't? Sure, the local troopers had been searching for a dangerous animal, but they would think it was just an animal. Troopers, by their very nature, weren't very smart. Upon entering the Imperial Academy, everyone was given tests. Those with the lowest scores were trained to be stormtroopers. Mainly all stormtroopers did was stand guard and fire guns. Most likely once the animal was caught and killed, they would have tossed its carcass onto a garbage heap totally unaware of the deadly pathogen it carried.

Once he was under control again, Vader headed back to his room in Sick Bay. He wasn't dumb enough to think the doctor would release him just yet; not enough time had passed. Sitting on the edge of his bed, he reached for the comm. the doctor had given him. He would call the bridge and ask for an update on the situation. Perhaps they had found out something by now. Making sure the device was set for audio only, he dialed Captain Piett. For some odd reason, he seemed to favor Piett over Admiral Ozzel, but then Ozzel was busy with the day to day running of the ship. "Captain, has there been any progress backtracking that beast?"

"Yes, My Lord," Piett's voice came over the link. "There actually has been."

"And what is the news, Captain?" Vader asked, managing to keep the surprise out of his voice. He really hadn't expected much progress on this matter.

"Well, the report … it says …" Piett hesitated, a loud gulping sound clearly heard. "I'm not too sure if this information is accurate, My Lord…"

"I understand, Captain." Vader replied. He could sense Piett's fear and nervousness clearly all the way from the bridge. "Just read what it says. You shall not be held accountable."

"As you wish, My Lord." Piett sighed in relief. "It says that the beast was backtracked to a motel where he owed a week's rent and that he was originally a human by the name of Jacques Sato. The motel's owner had contacted the local stormtroopers in hope of being paid the rent somehow… Does that make sense, My Lord?"

"Yes, Captain Piett, it does." Vader explained as he imagined the sick man, Sato, stumbling into one of the run down hovels of Mos Eisley spaceport upon arriving. The man must have known something was wrong and had sought a place to hide. "We are dealing with a DNA altering pathogen, Captain. Once infected, the disease slowly turns the infected into a bloodthirsty beast. What else have you learned?"

"We further backtracked Sato to a ship that recently landed on Mos Eisley. It appears Sato boarded it on Coruscant. He's listed as AWOL from the Empire, as he was a stormtrooper that did local guard duty…"

Vader's heart lurched at those words and cold dread filled him.

/No, not Coruscant!./

Coruscant: the biggest, most heavily populated planet in the entire galaxy. If the disease truly was there it could spread like wildfire throughout the population! It would be a living nightmare. Quarantine would be impossible. The city was built layer upon layer upon layer. It was a mass of streets and tunnels that twisted about like the most tangled maze ever. No single person knew every street; it would be impossible. Not even the best computers held a complete map. There were sections and areas that the more civilized inhabitants didn't enter on fear of life. Those were the dark lower parts of the planet where gangs ruled and criminals hung out, where Coruscant's poor lived short, fearful lives. And below that there were yet more levels. Vader knew somewhere, if one went deep enough into the infrastructure of the one huge city, one would have to find the planet's real surface: the rock, the ground, and the soil. But no one had reported touching it in thousands of years. No one wanted to or cared.

/Anything could live down there…/

Although the Empire did the best it could to patrol Coruscant and the other planets in its grip, they could still only do so much. And with a planet like Coruscant whose total population was so high, it was near impossible to keep track of every single sole. The fact is, people moved. And when they did, they often didn't bother to say where they were going, especially the poorer people. People could vanish and no one knew. If a waitress didn't show up for work at the local trashy grease trap way down in the depths of the city, the owner just hired someone else. Or better yet, he bought himself droids. There were often no problems with droids and they didn't require a salary like a live person. They could sleep right in the establishment and didn't ask for sick days or complain that their feet hurt. So it was a very real possibility that one of these things could be living down in the depths of the maze snacking on people with no one the wiser, especially on the lower levels where the sunlight never reached.

/This could be one heck of a mess…/

Yes, it could be a nightmare trying to track down and eradicate all of the creatures. They were fast and deadly with too many hiding places. Worst, they would be familiar with the territory.

/And there would be no guarantee we'd get all of them…/

How many people would be at the beginning stages of the disease? With the wounds healing so quickly, they might not seek out medical aide. And the poorer class of people, the most likely to be infected, would have no way to pay doctors anyway. They'd just hole up wherever they could and hope they didn't get sick. When just simply getting enough food everyday was a struggle, one didn't have money to waste on expensive doctors.

All of this flashed through Vader's mind in mere seconds. It was his ability to analyze a situation quickly and come to a decision had helped him rise to the lofty position he now held. "Is there anything else, Captain?"

"Yes, My Lord." Piett's voice said over the comm. "The stormtroopers have confiscated a diary from the motel. Should I bring it down?"

"Yes." Vader replied as hope rose within him. "Bring it down immediately."

/This could be just what we need…./

Yes, a diary could explain exactly where Sato had picked up the pathogen; providing the man was smart enough to include such information. There was the possibility that the item would be totally worthless and filled with mundane entries. Still, he allowed the hope to blossom within him.

"Captain? Contact the hospitals on Coruscant and inform them to watch for the symptoms of Metoncedo Belua, especially fast-healing wounds that sprout white hair. Anyone exhibiting these symptoms should be put into quarantine at once. Extreme care should be exercised when handling their blood, saliva or other body fluids."

"At once, My Lord!" Piett replied.

Opening a new channel, Vader contacted Admiral Ozzel. "Admiral, set a course for Coruscant."

"Yes, Lord Vader."

Vader closed the channel and impatiently waited for the electronic diary to arrive. If it didn't contain any helpful hints as to the whereabouts of where Sato had picked the disease up, it would be near impossible to track it down. Coruscant was just too large and the air traffic could easily take you to the other side of the globe in mere hours. Still, if he was stationed to guard duty somewhere, perhaps he picked it up in a nearby establishment? Not one to waste time, Vader picked up the padd that also rested on the table near his bed. It was a small portable computer that could hook into Executor's main computer banks. This allowed the Sith Lord to do his work while still resting his body.

He hadn't forgotten about Luke or Obi-Wan, yet he couldn't ignore the bigger picture, either. Luke needed his rest and barging in every few minutes to check on him wasn't conductive to healing. It would just annoy him, no doubt. The poor boy felt miserable the way it was. The mystery would also serve the purpose of keeping his mind occupied. If it weren't, he'd spend every spare moment fretting about Luke.

Once Vader was hooked in, he called up the file of Jacques Sato. Thanks to Piett, the file was already there and red flagged. Like he had been informed, the man was a stormtrooper and listed as AWOL. The military term simply meant Absent With Out Leave and it was a very serious offense. It could lead to jail time and much more. But Sato needn't worry about that now. He was dead and his transformed body was stored in the medical freezer reserved for just such cases. Scanning through the file, Vader learned that Sato had been twenty-five and had come from Corellia. The man's record was relatively clean, except for one note about coming back from leave drunk.

/So, it appears that Sato liked to drink…/

But Coruscant had literally thousands of clubs, bars and assorted places that served alcoholic beverages. He served guard duty at the Museum of Imperial Art; a boring post that mainly meant he stood around acting important while holding a gun. His presence was supposed to deter trouble and perhaps it did. Only the wealthy visited such a place and they were often well behaved. Another quick search revealed that none of his fellow guards from the Museum were missing; just him.

/Perhaps Sato was a loner…/

Or perhaps he was just unlucky and had been in the wrong place at the wrong time…

/Like Luke had been…/

Vader gazed at the screen of the padd, not really seeing it. This was a vast, far-reaching problem he had found and who knows what he may uncover next? The moments were ticking by and he impatiently glanced towards the door to his room. Where was Piett with that diary? The man was an extremely good officer and he would put him in charge of the case. The final decisions, however, would be his. He heard approaching footsteps in the hall and his heart sped up with anticipation. This very well could be it.

The door swooshed open and Dr. Corrigan came in, a small gray device in his hand. "This just arrived for you."

"Thank you, Doctor." Vader eagerly reached for the electronic diary and studied it for a moment. It was the common kind that stores sold everywhere, offering the buyer a choice between a voice recording or typed words. If the owner chosen the later, a small keyboard folded out from within the case. Turning the device on, he sighed with relief when no password was asked for. Sato had apparently chosen to type his diary entry, because words soon appeared on the screen. Bending forward slightly to see them better, Vader began to read.

The first words sent chills down his spine.

I don't know how much time I have before I go crazy and kill someone… 

To be continued…


End file.
